Storytime with Rachel F Hundred

Special Agent Tony DiNozzo tapped his fingers restlessly against the steering wheel and peeked out at the elegant façade of the Georgetown building where his team-mate’s Ziva David’s apartment was located. The Israeli Sentinel had moved there after her return to the States and Tony had barely visited the place since his own return from afloat.

He’d been by once before, Tony considered, remembering the hellishly awkward meal they’d had, just the two of them, after the whole Lee-was-a-traitor-trying-to-save-her-sister incident. He hadn’t really been sure what had prompted Ziva to invite him that time – concern over his minor injuries which had happened because she hadn’t followed orders, an attempt to comfort him or sympathise about their boss Leroy Jethro Gibbs cutting them out of the loop, or an intention on her part to confront and deal with the tension between them. What he hadn’t worked out at the time, nor to that day in truth, was whether the tension was something to do with their underlying physical attraction or if it was something Sentinel related.

Tony figured Ziva knew he was a Guide although she’d never said she knew and he’d never told her. She had put info together on the team for Mossad and while Tony knew the American Sentinel and Guide Registry was hard to crack, it wasn’t impossible. Certainly, the Registry had given up enough to the FBI when Tony had been accused of murder that they had known he was registered. Luckily for him, they had wrongly assumed he was a latent Sentinel. He had let them; he had never revealed he was a Guide to anyone. He hadn’t even confided in Gibbs, especially since he’d figured out some time ago that Gibbs thought the same as the FBI – the head slaps were a strong clue that Gibbs thought Tony needed refocusing at times just like a young Sentinel.

Nope, Tony hadn’t said anything to contradict the assumption made by pretty much everyone he met. Apart from anything else, admitting to being a Guide rather than a latent Sentinel would have ruined his career prospects. Guides were rare and in society’s attempt to keep them protected, their civil rights had been somewhat eroded. Blair Sandburg’s work had done a great deal to change societal opinions but law enforcement still tended to ban their Guides from frontline activities unless they were bonded with a Sentinel.

And Tony had no Sentinel.

After all, why would any Sentinel want a broken Guide?

Tony shook away that thought, not wanting to dwell on it or the pain it evoked, refocusing instead on the memory of his last visit to Ziva’s. She’d gotten a call from Israel just as they’d finished dessert and Tony had heard the intimate tone, put two and two together, and excused himself, relieved in truth that any kind of talking was postponed again. He hadn’t been back to the apartment since.

He wouldn’t be back now, he considered with a hard sigh, except the latest evidence implicated Ziva in the affairs of a known terrorist, and he needed to talk with her first, to give her opportunity to make things right herself. He knew deep down that she wasn’t complicit in an American agent being killed but she’d been different since the team had reunited, and she had lied about her boyfriend Michael Rivkin.

He glanced around the street.

Ziva had left the Navy Yard before him and her car was absent from the street but it didn’t prove she wasn’t home since parking was at a premium. There was a light on her apartment so someone was home. She’d probably parked around the block.

Not for the first time, Tony thought he really should have told Gibbs, or fellow Agent Timothy McGee, that their forensic scientist Abby Scuito had discovered the laptop found with their dead terrorist had once been connected to the internet in Ziva’s place. Protocol instructed that he take back-up for a person of interest with Ziva’s background, especially as she was also a registered Sentinel, but while he was almost certain Ziva wouldn’t hurt Tim, he definitely didn’t want to put the Probie in danger of a feral Sentinel. And breaking the news to Gibbs that Ziva might not be loyal to him…not something Tony wanted to do without absolute proof.

Gibbs might have given Tony leave to keep on Rivkin but Gibbs trusted Ziva to an extent that sometimes worried the hell out of Tony. Sure, Ziva had shot her own brother Ari to save Gibbs – and really did the two of them think anyone was stupid enough to believe Gibbs would accept Ziva onto his team if something of that magnitude hadn’t happened since Ari had killed Ziva’s predecessor Kate Todd – but Tony also believed the old tales that female Sentinels awakened some kind of primal protective thing in male Sentinels.

He was procrastinating again.

Tony sighed. He had to give Ziva the benefit of the doubt. She trusted Gibbs; surely if Tony asked her she’d come clean to the Boss even if she didn’t want to tell Tony.

He dithered for a moment longer and got out of the car. The only way to get answers was to go up there and face her. He straightened his sleeves with sharp tugs on his cuffs and strode confidently forward, grateful for the weight of his gun in his side-holster under his jacket.

Finding the right door took hardly any time. He remembered the apartment’s location. He knocked softly.

Rivkin opened it.

The bearded Sentinel smirked at him, raising the glass he held and prompting Tony to wonder if Rivkin had stopped drinking at all since their confrontation at lunch. “Ziva is not here but you are welcome to come inside and wait.”

Tony gave a huff of surprise as Rivkin turned and walked away, leaving the doorway open. Tony entered and closed the door behind him. He wondered for a moment what he should do. Wait for Ziva? Confront Rivkin again on why he was still there? His mind was also racing as he considered the implications of Rivkin looking so at home in Ziva’s apartment.

“Did you come to help comfort Ziva believing me gone at your urging, Agent DiNozzo?” Rivkin slurred mockingly. “I am sorry to disappoint you.”

Tony felt the sting of the spiteful words even as he rejected the basic premise of them. He loved Ziva, was even very attracted to her (she was a beautiful woman), and he had sometimes wondered in an abstract way what it would be like to be with her…but he’d never truthfully considered her as an option for a romantic relationship. Apart from the complexity of a Guide getting involved with a Sentinel they weren’t bonded with, and Gibbs’ rules, just after she’d joined the team he hadn’t trusted her enough.

By the time he had trusted her, he was leading the team and then involved with Jeanne. His heart and his conscience hadn’t quite healed from that debacle enough to consider romance with anyone else as his dismal dating record of the past year showed only too clearly. But although he wasn’t romantically interested in Ziva, he cared about her and Rivkin was bad news.

He should leave, Tony mused briefly. He could wait in the car; catch her before she entered the building. But Rivkin being there, being so at home there, meant that the evidence had another explanation.

“I came to question Ziva about why a terrorist’s laptop would show an internet connection from this address,” Tony said, testing the waters.

Rivkin smiled again. “You cannot believe Ziva had anything to do with that. Are you seriously going to let a row of numbers found on some computer to mean she was involved in terrorism?”

“I don’t believe it,” Tony admitted. “But finding you here I’m thinking you know how that connection appeared on that computer.” He pretended a confidence he didn’t feel and took out the handcuffs he carried and his gun. “Finish your drink, Rivkin, it’s going to be your last for a while; I’m arresting you on suspicion of murder.”

Rivkin tossed his drink back and while Tony’s eyes automatically went to the glint of lamp light hitting the glass, Rivkin’s foot snapped up and kicked the gun out of Tony’s hand.

It didn’t occur to Tony to reach for his Guide gifts; they hadn’t worked since he was eight. Tony charged forward instead; football tackles had been his mainstay attack ever since he was a teenager and the move took Rivkin by surprise enough that the Mossad trained assassin was caught off balance.

They hit the floor.

Tony scrambled for a good hold but Rivkin regained the upper hand quickly, sending a fist into Tony’s head and making his ears ring. Tony shook off the disorientation fast enough to stop a second and managed a few punches of his own – regularly sparring with two Sentinels giving him an advantage that Rivkin hadn’t anticipated.

But it only won him some space for all of a few seconds, just long enough to get to his feet, before Rivkin was on him again. He blocked blow after blow but he mistimed one swing and Rivkin immediately had him in a viciously painful hold, applying pressure on his shoulder…

The pop of his arm out of the joint had Tony crying out even as Rivkin shifted position and took him in a choke hold.

A wild feeling slammed hard into the mental walls that an eight year old had constructed to protect himself in panicked horror as he’d felt his mother dying beside him, her hand tight around his as a movie played out on the television on the wall.

But Rivkin’s hatred was immense; under its weight cracks appeared in Tony’s mindscape, running like spider webs across the smooth surface of his shielding, and suddenly Tony could feel Rivkin’s emotion; hot and boiling and furious; the Sentinel wanted to kill him…

In desperation Tony mentally and physically surged back, letting his full weight carry him and Rivkin down…straight onto the glass coffee table.

The smash was loud, echoing in the apartment.

Rivkin groaned, his hold on Tony loosened. Tony crawled free on one arm; his useless arm tucked to his side, pain careening through him despite the haze of adrenaline that kept him moving with every jarring shuffle. He managed to get to his gun just in time to see Rivkin rise up like a bad movie villain cliché. He watched horrified as the Mossad agent pulled a shard of glass from himself.

“Don’t do it!” Tony begged, his grip on his gun tightening as Rivkin took one stumbling step toward him. “Don’t do it!”

But Rivkin was almost on top of him and Tony could see the feral glaze in the Sentinel’s eyes, the lack of sanity.

Rivkin raised the shard and…

Tony brought the gun to bear and fired rapidly; four shots, centre mass.

The other man collapsed in a heap beside him…

The apartment door burst open…

Tony immediately turned, gun aimed, ready to defend himself and froze.

It was Ziva.

-nCIs-

Ziva’s attention went straight to Rivkin. She raced across the room, gun discarded onto a nearby table as she used her hands to press on the worst of the wounds.

Tony rolled to the side. He propped himself up on the wall. Ziva’s desperate panic was battering at what was left of his mental walls as she verbally pleaded with her lover to stay with her. She truly believed herself in love with Rivkin.

Mate.

The word resonated in Tony’s head and he winced. That was bad. If Ziva thought of Rivkin as her mate then it was likely she was a hair’s breadth from going feral herself.

Tony reached for his phone, tucked into his pants’ pocket. His eyes slid to Rivkin. There was still life in the Sentinel’s eyes, and Tony could feel regret and guilt as the Israeli looked up at the woman trying to hold his bleeding body together, but there was no love and only a thin thread of true affection.

The cold plastic casing of the phone helped focus Tony and he made the call without thinking.

“Boss.”

The sound of Gibbs’ automated voicemail had Tony grimacing but he left a brief message telling him to get to Ziva’s and hung up.

Tony redialled even as Ziva screamed at him to call an ambulance.

“SG Emergency line, how may I direct your call?” The operator said briskly.

“Codes Red and Blue, mated pair,” Tony rattled off immediately. Fatally injured Sentinel. Feral alert for a Sentinel.

There was a sharp intake of breath from the operator that Tony ignored. He forced himself to complete the codes.

“Code Yellow,” Tony murmured, ignoring the screaming voice inside of his head that told him to stay silent about his own situation; that he could handle it without the Registry. Distressed and injured Guide. “Not paired.” He didn’t belong to either of the Sentinels with him.

He rattled off the address and barely heard the reassurance of the operator that units had been dispatched before he ended the call.

Pain suffused him; his own, Rivkin’s physical, Ziva’s emotional. He was finding it hard to tell where they ended and he began. He clenched his hand around the phone, drawing on the physical sensation to get a sense of his own self, to try and reinforce the crumbling barriers between him and the rest of the world.

There was another call he had to make. His Guide instincts were screaming at him that this needed to be done and Tony couldn’t resist the urge to give in.

“Hey, it’s DiNozzo. I need you to come to Ziva’s apartment,” Tony said bluntly when the phone was picked up at the other end. “It’s…I need someone I can count on from the Registry and…” He stopped as a sudden tearing pain shot through him, turning the world grey and blurry, when it ended he was curled up on the floor, his phone beside him, and Ziva stood over him, her dark eyes glittering as she brought her gun to bear on him.

Rivkin wasn’t breathing, Tony realised. He couldn’t feel him anymore.

“You!” Ziva snarled. “You killed him! You did this! Why could you not let it go? Let him go!”

“I came here for you!” Tony protested, forcing the words out through gritted teeth. “Your address came up on Tabal’s internet connections! I wanted to talk with you.”

“And instead you found Michael and attacked him!” Ziva yelled out angrily.

“I was going to take him in and he resisted with extreme force,” Tony rejoined fiercely, certain that Ziva wasn’t even listening to him. “He didn’t give me a choice!”

She snarled at him and raised the gun to point at his head. “I should kill you for this!”

He felt the edge of the feral fugue waiting to consume her and, unable to move physically, he reacted with all the untrained power of his mind.

“Don’t!” He commanded, pushing the thought from his head to hers in a heartbeat.

She immediately buckled under the empathic instruction. Her eyes went wide with startled realisation – so much so that Tony wondered if she hadn’t known that he was a broken Guide after all. She fell to the floor, unconscious.

Tony could hear his own panting, the tiny gasps of breath he was making so close to hyperventilating that he knew he had to get his breathing under control or it would be very bad. He forced himself to take one deep calm breath after another.

There were noises outside – sirens and cars screeching to a halt, doors opening and slamming shut, raised voices checking details and information even as they moved towards the building.

SG Emergency personnel, Tony surmised. He could feel the hum of their excitement, determination and duty just beyond what was left of his shield. He could sense their intentions; honourable and focused – only wanting to help and save; assist and protect.

Tony felt another wave of pain, crying out in agony as he tried to shift into a sitting position to greet them. It was finally too much for him and he gave into the beckoning darkness, unaware that his phone remained open, the call still active.

-nCIs-

SG Senior Investigator Abigail Borin finished briefing Tom Morrow and thanked her lucky stars that the Director of the Registry knew the players involved. It saved her a lot of time. She snapped the phone shut just as the FBI car slid into the vacant spot the SG ambulance had just left in front of the apartment building.

They didn’t waste any time, Abi thought. Of course, the alert had gone straight out to them because of the Sentinel fatality and Morrow had warned her that the FBI would share jurisdiction since there were international ramifications, the discovery of a suspicious laptop and what appeared to be a bomb in Ziva David’s apartment.

Tobias Fornell was out of the car before his partner could get the hand brake on. She didn’t mind Fornell too much. His thinning hair and grizzled features belied a sharp mind and a fierce sense of justice. He liked winning but he’d share if pressed.

He wasn’t the one she was worried about and almost as soon as she’d had the thought, Gibbs’ truck entered the other end of the road and barrelled down at high speed until it braked sharply right in front of the building.

Borin braced herself. She’d been expecting him from the moment she’d examined DiNozzo’s phone and confirmed DiNozzo had called his boss. She was somewhat surprised Gibbs hadn’t been there from the start. The silver-haired former Marine wasn’t going to be happy to relinquish control especially with his agents involved, but no-one was going to give him and NCIS lead. She almost smiled as she saw Gibbs catch up to Fornell and yank him to a stop. Typical Gibbs.

Gibbs glared. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Fornell barked in response.

They went nose to nose on the top step; Fornell refusing to let the Sentinel intimidate him. Abi admired that since it was something they shared. The Registry mostly employed Sentinels and Guides; Abi was one of the few Norms who had made the cut and a lot of that had to do with her own bold tenacity and refusal to give an inch when faced with angry Sentinels.

She rolled her eyes from her vantage spot by the door.

“Gentlemen,” Abi called out to them both. Her red hair was tucked away in her SG Registry cap, her face set in determined lines. She waved them both forward into the building, subtly blocking Gibbs’ attempt to get to the stairs, and instead ushered them both into a small alcove which gave the illusion of privacy.

“What’s going on?” Gibbs barked. “Where are my agents?”

“Gibbs,” Abi greeted him warmly, if warily. “I’m sorry we’re meeting again under these circumstances.” She really had no beef with him. He hadn’t played well on their first meeting, but she’d received grudging respect every time their paths had crossed since. She kept her eyes on him, judging his reaction carefully. “Both David and DiNozzo are on their way to the special SG unit at Bethesda.”

“Wait,” Fornell spluttered, his thin eyebrows traversing up his forehead, “since when did DiNutso make it onto the active list?”

Abi noted that Gibbs tensed unhappily but other than that, there was no hint of his thoughts. She held up a hand, indicating she wasn’t going to answer Fornell’s question and turned instead to Gibbs who was already heading towards the door – presumably to make his way to Bethesda and his agents.

“Before you go, Gibbs, do you know of any reason why Agent DiNozzo would have visited here tonight?” Abi asked briskly.

Gibbs stopped and straightened, understanding that he was being asked as a potential witness. “What happened?”

“Answer my question, Gibbs,” Abi implored. She held his furious gaze and willed him to give in.

He surrendered with a lack of grace. “He’s been worried about Ziva.”

“Specifically?” prompted Abi, knowing Gibbs had given her a partial answer.

“The company she’s been keeping,” Fornell supplied. He plastered on an innocent look when Gibbs glared at him. “What?” He said brusquely. “It’s not like she’s not going to find out.”

Abi made a show of checking her notes. “Michael Rivkin, a Mossad agent, was found in the apartment with David and DiNozzo. He the bad company?”

“Yep,” Gibbs tilted his head, “any reason you have for asking?”

“He’s dead, Gibbs,” Abi informed him bluntly.

Gibbs stiffened, and she recognised the ice in his gaze as anger. “You aiming to blame DiNozzo for that, Borin?”

“Should I?” Abi needled.

For a long moment it looked like Gibbs wasn’t going to answer but he sighed abruptly and made an impatient gesture. “Rivkin was persona non grata. He messed up NCIS operations in LA. He was told to leave. Tony wouldn’t have expected to find him here.”

Abi nodded. “So he came to confront David? Alone?”

“We’re a team, Borin,” Gibbs said fiercely. “You take back-up with you when you want to check on your partner?”

Abi held up her hand again in mute apology and surrender. “Here’s what I know, Gibbs. At some point this evening, Agent DiNozzo arrived at Officer David’s apartment to discuss the matter of this address being associated with an internet connection on a computer related to a case.”

Gibbs didn’t move an inch but the muscle in jaw flexed.

“David wasn’t at home and DiNozzo instead attempted to arrest Officer Rivkin,” Abi continued. “Rivkin resisted violently and DiNozzo was forced to defend himself. The physical evidence in the apartment corroborates that a fight took place ending when DiNozzo shot Rivkin.” She kept her gaze on Gibbs. “David arrived back not long after the shooting. She gave first aid to Rivkin but was unable to save him at which point she attacked and tried to shoot DiNozzo before he managed to render her unconscious.”

Gibbs remained silent, his blue eyes glittering icily.

“There’s no way you could know all that!” Fornell jabbed a finger at her.

She sighed and pulled an evidence bag from her jacket pocket.

Gibbs’ eyes went wide with recognition at the sight of DiNozzo’s phone.

“He called me,” Abi admitted, noting the shock on both men’s faces at that piece of news. “We were interrupted before he could tell me anything other than I needed to be here but the line was open and I heard his conversation and confrontation with David. It’s recorded.” She put the phone back in her pocket. “She was going to kill him.”

“Jesus,” Fornell murmured.

Abi nodded in agreement with the sentiment. “DiNozzo reported Rivkin and David as a mated pair so she has some defence.” She looked at Gibbs. “Did you know?”

“That she was seeing Rivkin?” After a momentary hesitation, Gibbs gave a nod.

“But not that she considered Rivkin her mate?” Abi pressed.

Gibbs shrugged and she could tell that he was uncomfortable that something might have gotten past his radar. “She didn’t talk about him much. I figured she was entitled to her privacy.”

“Well, from this point on, she’s not going to get that, apart from the attack on DiNozzo, we also found a suspicious laptop hidden in the apartment along with an incendiary device that could have blown the place apart,” Abi stated firmly. “I’m going to need to know everything you know.”

Gibbs breathed out sharply. “You got point?”

“What am I? Chopped liver?” Fornell jumped in.

Abi turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “I know your Director already told you I had point.” She said dryly.

Fornell grunted and gave a shrug, giving in.

“Are we done here?” Gibbs asked brusquely, his eyes flickering to the stairs and giving away his want to examine the evidence for himself, even though his body was turned for the door.

“As a courtesy I’ll take you up and you can review what we’ve found?” Abi offered.

She sensed his hesitation; the pull to go to the hospital and check on his people had to be strong but she also knew that his want to protect them would also extend to ensuring he knew exactly what had gone down.

“Lead the way,” Gibbs said curtly.

They trooped up the stairs in silence. A couple of SG forensics personnel passed them on the stairs, nodding at them but not stopping.

The apartment door was busted wide open. Gibbs stopped for a moment beside it as though assessing how he could fix it.

“We’ll make the apartment secure before we leave,” Abi reminded him.

“The door was kicked in,” Fornell pointed to the damage.

“From the witness statement given by a neighbour, she saw Ziva pull up outside and run for the building, then there were gunshots followed by a loud bang.” Abi waved at the door. “We’re guessing that Ziva heard the gunshots and broke the door down rather than take the time to open it.”

Which meant Ziva had feared one of the men inside was in danger. Abi wondered which one Ziva had been concerned about enough to kick the door in for; whether it had been DiNozzo she’d been concerned for in the beginning since Rivkin, theoretically as a Sentinel, should have been able to hold his own against DiNozzo.

She led the way through the entranceway. There were blood stains on the carpet. The trail led back to the ruined coffee table. Shards of glass were being painstakingly gathered by her team. Abi led the two men into the kitchen.

“We found the laptop and the device here by the gas pipe,” Abi pointed briskly. If the device had gone off, all of the evidence in the apartment would have been compromised.

“Standard Mossad clean-up technique,” Fornell commented, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. “Destroy all the evidence.” His eyes gleamed with intelligence. “You’ve got that laptop somewhere safe I take it?”

Abi raised an eyebrow. “It’s been secured and it’s under Sentinel guard at headquarters.”

“It’ll need to be,” Gibbs muttered.

“I’m going to head there.” Fornell stated. “If that laptop is the reason this all went down, it has to be important.”

She didn’t argue since the FBI focusing on the laptop angle was the best use of resources. She simply gave a nod.

Fornell glanced warily at Gibbs who was staring out at the damage in the living area. “How bad’s DiNozzo hurt?”

Gibbs tensed beside her.

“Dislocated shoulder. Bruises and cuts all over him. He took a few punches to the head,” Abi summarised succinctly. She narrowed her gaze at Fornell understanding his tactic to divert Gibbs from the laptop although she hated him a little for it.

It worked too because Gibbs swore and turned for the door, Sentinel protective instincts roused again.

Abi immediately moved to keep pace with him. “I’ll ride with you to Bethesda, Gibbs.”

Gibbs shot her a look but he allowed her to follow him down and get into his truck. She belted herself in quickly before Gibbs started the engine. He reversed fast, pulled the truck around sharply and made down the road at something well above the speed limit.

She swallowed hard and forced herself to remain calm. “We need to talk about your agents, Gibbs.”

“Nothing to talk about,” Gibbs bit out.

“There’s more than you know,” Abi said, giving into her need to hold onto the dashboard with a white knuckled grip.

“Like what?”

“DiNozzo’s in Registry protective custody,” Abi hurried out.

Gibbs bristled. “He doesn’t need…”

Abi glared back at him. “He just killed a Mossad agent. Everything suggests that it was a righteous shoot, Gibbs, but you think Mossad is going to just accept that?”

Gibbs inhaled sharply.

“Then there’s David to consider,” Abi pointed out. “If she really did consider Rivkin her mate…there’s a chance that she’ll fixate on hurting DiNozzo.”

Gibbs’s hands tightened on the wheel and she knew her point had been made.

“And regardless of all that…”

Gibbs screeched to a halt at a set of lights and Abi swore as she jerked forward and back. She glared at him.

“Regardless of how much you like to ignore his status, Gibbs,” she repeated firmly, “DiNozzo is under our protection because he’s a Guide.”

The shock on Gibbs’ face told its own story and Abi tried to conceal her own surprise at what it revealed: Gibbs hadn’t known.

-nCIs-

Gibbs stared at Borin.

The Registry agent looked back at him evenly, un-cowed by his glare that demanded without words that she explain herself.

He would have kept glaring at her but the blare of a strident horn behind the truck had Gibbs moving into action as he glanced at the lights to check they were green again; he pressed his foot on the gas and the truck shot forward.

He really couldn’t have heard her right.

DiNozzo – Tony – wasn’t a Guide. He wasn’t. Tony had sharp hearing, sharper eyesight and a great sense of smell. His parents were Sentinels. It had made perfect sense to Gibbs when he’d come across the background check notation that Tony had been registered as inactive by the Registry that Tony was a latent Sentinel. It had never crossed his mind that Tony was a Guide, especially as Tony was a Detective.

But shouldn’t it?

Gibbs thought back to all the times Tony had charmed a witness or soothed a victim or…or handled Gibbs himself. He thought back to all the times that Tony had intuitively leaped to the right conclusion, pieced together the puzzle, or seen something in the minutiae of clues that everyone else hadn’t. All textbook Guide qualities. Why hadn’t he put the clues together?

Because he hadn’t wanted to, the voice in his head lectured. Because even thinking Tony was a Guide was dangerous territory. And now…

“Are you telling me that I’ve been taking an active Guide into the field for the last eight years?” Gibbs barked. For all he intellectually supported the notion of Guide rights, his Sentinel stomach churned at the idea that he’d allowed a Guide so close to so many dangerous situations. God. Tony had gotten the plague, been shot, beaten half to death and…DiNozzo should have told him, damn it.

“You really didn’t know?” Borin asked bluntly.

He didn’t see the need to reply. He’d have found out at Bethesda anyway, Gibbs mused grumpily. He grunted. Why hadn’t Tony ever told him? The question ricocheted around his head and he shook it a little as though trying to clear it.

“If it helps I don’t think he’s told anyone.”

Borin’s quiet reply to his question made him realise he’d spoken it out loud. He gritted his teeth. He had to get better control of himself. But he also saw the opening and took it.

“You sure about that?” He asked gruffly.

She shot him an incredulous look but he returned it with a silent plea for answers, knowing a glimpse of his real caring for Tony would unlock Borin quicker than his usual bastard act.

Borin sighed. “He’s the son of two Sentinels, Gibbs, and a Guide. Do you know how rare that makes him?”

Gibbs inwardly winced. Tony was more than rare. He hadn’t heard of any other Sentinel pairing producing a Guide.

“He was born at home and his mother reported his birth as a Norm; neither Sentinel nor Guide. It doesn’t happen a lot when there is a Sentinel pairing but it does happen, and DiNozzo’s father only just qualifies as an active Sentinel so no-one thought anything of it. She taught DiNozzo to shield his ability, keep it a secret from everyone including his father, and…” Borin made an impatient gesture as Gibbs took the turn-off for the hospital. “Let’s just say she was an alcoholic Sentinel who wasn’t making good judgement calls.”

Gibbs put the facts of what he knew together swiftly. “She made him her Guide.”

“Tried anyway from what the Registry investigators could make out when they discovered the situation,” Borin conceded.

“When she died?” Gibbs guessed.

Borin nodded. “She almost took him with her and he protected himself.” She sighed heavily. “The medics figured that the trauma had damaged any Guide gifts he had and more importantly his being able to bond with a Sentinel. He was considered a Guide in biology only.” She shifted in the seat as he pulled into a parking spot in front of the hospital. “Until now.”

Gibbs killed the engine and considered her words.

God, what a clusterfuck. He’d been half out of his mind since he’d heard Tony’s message. There had been enough in the tone for Gibbs to know something had gone completely FUBAR. He’d made his way to Ziva’s apartment thinking he knew what had gone down; a massive confrontation between his Senior Field Agent and their Mossad Liaison; between Tony and Ziva who had always tested each other’s boundaries beyond the usual pull and push of team-mates. A quick call to his favourite forensic scientist to see if she had known anything had given him the underlying reason. Tony had been right to confront Ziva and Gibbs couldn’t deny that if he’d gotten the information first he’d have gone alone too.

Gibbs didn’t care that a Mossad agent was dead. Rivkin was a rogue and better that he was put down than he cost more agents their lives. But he cared about the fallout for Tony; for Ziva knowing that she must have cared for Rivkin.

“DiNozzo’s Guide gifts got reactivated tonight then?” He questioned Borin as she went for the door. Trauma had been known to bring latent gifts online.

“According to the doctor who examined him at the scene, DiNozzo was never inactive,” Borin said dryly and got out before he could question her further.

Gibbs caught up with her in the hospital entrance-way. He remained silent until they got onto the elevator which was thankfully free of anyone else.

“Explain,” He said, itching to stop the elevator but knowing it would only cause panic in the hospital whereas it was considered business as usual at NCIS.

Borin’s eyes swept over him. “We think the medics who examined DiNozzo back then didn’t do the job properly.” She shoved her hands in her jacket pockets and shrugged, glancing up at the floor indicator. “Our doctor who examined him at the scene thought DiNozzo simply shielded himself so well that it looked like his gifts had been made dormant and today his shields came down.”

The elevator doors opened and Gibbs exited without replying, chewing over Borin’s explanation in his mind. If Tony had locked his Guide side down, it explained why Gibbs hadn’t realised what Tony was.

Gibbs could also guess at one major reason why the younger man hadn’t said a word. DiNozzo was a cop through and through; he lived for the badge. And despite the Sentinel urge to keep a Guide safe, Gibbs conceded DiNozzo was a field agent and a damned good one; that it would be a crime to restrict him to desk duty. Only had his Guide status been known, Tony would have been desk bound unless Tony had bonded to a Sentinel – which from what Borin had just said since Tony would have thought bonding was an impossibility…

And now…

Just the whole notion of Tony bonding with some faceless Sentinel to stay field active had Gibbs’ gut churning.

Yeah.

He was certainly getting an appreciation for why Tony had remained silent about his Guide status.

The SG floor of Bethesda hummed with quiet activity. Gibbs scented the fresh smells of the Sentinel friendly cleaning agents. He followed Borin to the desk, watched as she competently signed them both in as visitors.

Borin jerked her thumb towards the right. “Sentinel unit is down here.”

Gibbs nodded, understanding that she meant for them to check on Ziva first and happy enough to avoid the inevitable talk he needed to have with Tony.

The attending doctor stood just outside the examination room perusing a clipboard; a thin, greying man with wire-frame glasses. He saw them approaching and immediately began walking towards them, meeting them half-way. He gestured at the bench along the wall but both Gibbs and Borin eschewed it with impatient gestures.

“What’s the word, Doctor?” Borin asked brusquely.

Gibbs kept back understanding without being told he was there mostly because Borin was gracious enough to include him.

“Sentinel David is awake, has a hell of a headache and is pacing the room like a caged animal,” The doctor’s name badge identified him as Sorrell. He sighed and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Her anger and grief are predominate. I’d like to keep her overnight for her and put her through a meditation with a Registry Guide so she can regain some calm.”

“In your opinion was she mated?” Borin asked.

Gibbs wanted to protest the question but he swallowed his protest down around the lump in his throat knowing that the doctor’s answer might very well land Ziva in trouble with the law.

“Her emotional state says yes, her physical tests say no,” Sorrell replied. “If I was pressed I would say she wanted to be mated, considered him a mate on a number of levels, but they hadn’t actually formed a mating bond.”

So, Ziva still had some defence for attacking Tony. Gibbs didn’t know whether to be relieved or furious.

“May we speak with her?” Borin asked, all business.

Sorrell glanced at Gibbs. “You’re a Sentinel?”

Gibbs nodded.

Sorrell acquiesced. “Try not to agitate her too much.”

Borin allowed Gibbs to enter first and he understood the silent signal for him to take point. Part of him approved furiously at Borin’s ploy; she’d get more out of Ziva if Gibbs questioned her. Part of him felt he should give his team member a heads up; he did owe Ziva his life.

“Gibbs!” Ziva stopped pacing and hurried over to him.

He took in the lack of bruises; the standard hospital pyjamas and her loose hair, flying around her shoulders like a banner.

“Thank God you are here!” She barely spared Borin a glance.

Gibbs motioned with a tilt of his head towards the Registry investigator. “Borin’s here officially, Ziva. You want to tell us what happened?” It was as much of a heads up as he was going to give Ziva.

Ziva threw Borin a disgusted look and whirled away again, resuming her pacing. “I do not know!” She snarled out eventually. Her hands gestured violently out toward the door. “I got home and saw Tony’s car. Then, through the window two figures fighting in my apartment. I hurried inside and…” she paused in her pacing and made a gun with her fingers, “there were shots. Four. I entered the apartment and found Tony and…and Michael.”

Her face crumpled.

“Michael was down. Tony had gone crazy and shot him!” Ziva’s anger reasserted itself. “He will pay for Michael’s death!”

Gibbs felt his own anger ignite at her fury towards DiNozzo. He had no idea if it was because he’d found out Tony was a Guide and it meant he was more protective than usual, or just because he trusted Tony and Tony didn’t deserve her ire. “Hey! DiNozzo was doing his job.”

Ziva’s mouth dropped open in surprise.

“I told him to stay on Rivkin, Ziva!” Gibbs admitted as he stalked up the last couple of steps to her and stopped just in front of her. “But Rivkin wasn’t the reason why Tony was at yours. You want to know why he went there? To talk to you.” He held her gaze pointedly. “You want to tell me why Abby found Tabal’s laptop was connected to the internet in your apartment?”

“I had nothing to do with that!” Ziva stated furiously. “And if you think that I would…”

“I don’t,” Gibbs cut in. “And neither did Tony when Abby told him. He went to your apartment to ask you about it; to warn you.” He shifted when her eyes dropped away from his and fluttered about the room, trying desperately to avoid his gaze. “Only when he got there, he found Rivkin.”

Ziva stared resolutely at the floor.

He moved, tapping the bottom of her chin lightly and getting her to refocus on him. Her gaze was both defiant and guilty.

“Rivkin stay at your apartment the entire time he was in town, Ziva?” Gibbs asked quietly.

Ziva nodded jerkily.

“He have access to your internet?” Gibbs pressed.

Ziva jerked away from him and stormed over to the far side of the room, wrapping her arms around herself.

Gibbs let her go. “If you were DiNozzo what conclusions would you have drawn?”

“Tony should not have been there!” Ziva replied furiously. “He should not have…”

“Attempted to take on your boyfriend alone?” Gibbs sniped back at her, surprising her into looking at him again. “Yeah,” Gibbs admitted, “that much we can agree on. He should have left, called for back-up and waited. But then what was the probability of Rivkin letting Tony leave if there was any chance he figured out Tony had deduced his involvement?”

None.

He knew it and she knew it.

She turned away from him and faced the wall.

“You don’t get to blame Tony for defending himself, Ziva,” Gibbs said quietly. He felt tired; worn out. He motioned at Borin to step in.

“What happened after Rivkin died?” Borin asked pointedly.

Ziva flushed. “I questioned Tony about his actions and then…” she frowned, “I believe I passed out?”

Gibbs figured it was a blessing that she didn’t realise Tony’s involvement in her nap-time.

“You should know that I was on the phone with DiNozzo when you questioned him,” Borin said.

Ziva’s eyes darted anywhere but the Registry investigator.

“You may face charges. Special Agent DiNozzo’s action in killing Officer Rivkin, on the other hand, was self-defence and he will not face any,” Borin stated bluntly.

“My father…” Ziva began heatedly, turning to face the Registry agent.

“Has no jurisdiction here,” Borin said firmly. “If anything, once the investigation is fully completed, I wouldn’t be surprised if the FBI had questions for your father and why covert Mossad operations are taking place on US soil.”

There was something in the way Ziva flinched that set off Gibbs’ internal alarm. “How long have you been telling Mossad about NCIS operations?” He demanded angrily.

ZIva whirled back around to him, panic fluttering over her face. “I have not betrayed you, Gibbs!”

“What else do you call giving details of NCIS operations to Mossad – ” Gibbs caught something in her expression and narrowed his eyes, ” – to Rivkin?”

God. Tony had been more right than either of them had suspected. And Gibbs felt a stirring of guilt about ignoring the hints that Tony had been throwing him about Ziva’s involvement with Rivkin; about Ziva’s commitment to NCIS after what had happened in LA. He’d ignored it all because he trusted Ziva; thought of her and Abby as pseudo daughters no matter how much he’d tried not to…and as a Sentinel he was simply hardwired to protect the female of their species.

“There was nothing that would compromise…”

“That was not and is not your call to make!” Gibbs snapped.

“You have always known I am Mossad!” Ziva threw back at him.

“You’re a member of my team!” Gibbs took a step forward but stopped himself from taking another despite the anger coursing through him. He’d thought without saying that her place with them, her loyalty to them came first.

Ziva breathed in sharply. “I admit,” she began hesitantly, “that I made an error with Michael, Gibbs. I did not see…” she gestured emphatically, “did not see how unstable he was becoming until today, but I promise you I will not make this mistake again.”

“You’re damn right you won’t!” Gibbs bit out. He took a deep breath, trying to get himself under control. He couldn’t quite get his mind to stop spinning with the ramifications of Ziva’s confession of passing on information. A brief glance toward Borin confirmed she’d heard every word.

“I cannot work with Tony,” Ziva blurted out. “He killed Michael!”

Gibbs felt as though his blood was freezing in his veins. He stared at her unblinkingly.

Ziva looked at him pleadingly. “You have to understand…”

“It was self-defence, Ziva,”

“Perhaps,” she conceded, “but you do not know…he followed me to Michael yesterday lunch time. I do not trust him and I cannot work with him.”

“You’re asking me to choose?” The idea seemed incredulous. It wasn’t just the fact that she had just revealed that she had passed on confidential information, or that she was asking him to choose, but that she distrusted Tony.

Tony.

Tony, who had to be the most loyal guy Gibbs had ever met. Sure, Tony could also be a complete pain in the ass but he was solid gold – solid good – underneath. Ziva had to know that. She had to be joking.

But Ziva gave a sharp nod in answer to his question. “It is him or me, Gibbs.”

Her dark eyes beseeched him to give into her. A part of him – the bereaved father, the protective Sentinel – wanted to enfold her into a paternal embrace, kiss her forehead and tell her everything was going to be alright. But the need to protect Tony rose fierce as a tsunami wave. For a second it battled with his urge to protect a female Sentinel before his caring for Tony, his knowledge that Tony would never ask him to choose, buried that instinctive need back into the primal recesses of his mind. He’d failed his Senior Field Agent – and the rest of their make-shift family – in allowing her too much latitude in her role; in allowing her to betray them with Rivkin; he’d failed as a Sentinel in allowing her and the situation she had created anywhere near to a Guide…and more importantly, a good agent; a good man who had gotten caught up in trying to protect her from herself.

Gibbs sighed and closed the distance between them. He paused in front of her, causing her to tilt her head back slightly to meet his eyes.

“Gibbs?” she asked questioningly.

He slowly shifted to kiss her cheek softly. “Take care of yourself, Ziva.” He walked away from her and didn’t look back.

He waited for Borin at the end of the corridor, understanding that Borin still had business to conclude with her. There were a number of loose ends to tie up and – damn it! He shook his head. He was going to have to tell Vance. He’d completely forgotten about the NCIS Director.

“You OK, Gibbs?”

Borin’s concerned voice behind him had him starting, wondering how she’d sneaked up on him. She gave a half-hearted smirk.

“Just thinking about Vance,” Gibbs admitted. “I should call him.”

“Already taken care of,” Borin stated dryly. “My director was going to do the honours.”

Relief flooded through him. He motioned back down the corridor to where they’d left Ziva. “You charging her?”

“For giving away NCIS secrets?” Borin asked and pulled a face. “Not my call.”

That charge wouldn’t stick anyway, Gibbs figured. Ziva could claim that given her position as liaison, any information NCIS shared with her, she had assumed was valid for sharing with Mossad; he had never explicitly told her otherwise, and God only knew what she’d been told by the NCIS Directors who’d appointed her. He suspected neither Leon Vance nor Jennifer Shepard had ever set boundaries with her.

“Is she facing charges for assaulting DiNozzo?” Gibbs corrected impatiently.

“Like I just told her, it depends on DiNozzo. She didn’t take that well; the doctor’s sedated her,” Borin waved an arm in the direction of the Guide unit. “Shall we?”

Gibbs felt something settle in him. He’d see DiNozzo for himself; check he was OK. And he was going to make sure the younger man knew Gibbs had his six.

-nCIs-

The air was fresh and clean; the scent of a warm jungle, heavy with blossoming flowers and the bright green foliage that surrounded the clearing he stood in. His spirit animal, a black panther lay in the centre. Tony approached him cautiously. They’d played on the spirit plane when he was little and the panther hardly more than a cub.

“Hey,” he whispered, reaching out to carefully stroke the panther’s dark head, “sorry, buddy. I kind of couldn’t get here for a while.”

The cat purred under Tony’s touch, pushing its head into Tony’s hand, and Tony knew he was forgiven; that he hadn’t been blamed in the first place.

Tony settled onto the ground and the panther clambered half into his lap, purring softly as Tony immersed himself in petting his spirit animal; reconnecting with some inner joy he couldn’t put into words but which he hadn’t felt since that awful day in his mother’s hospital room.

Elizabeth Paddington DiNozzo had been a female Sentinel; his father was a grade two – enough enhanced senses to be called a Sentinel without the true benefits another grade or three would have given him. Tony had been an anomaly; a child of two Sentinels who had manifested from birth as a Guide.

His mother had hidden him from the Registry, from his father. She’d taught him how to shield; how to pretend he was a Normal. And he’d loved her so much he’d never questioned it…never wondered at how closely she’d tied herself to him…he’d just been a kid who’d loved his mother.

He’d had no idea of the danger until the day she’d died and tried to take him with her…the day he’d blocked himself away from the world…and ceased to be a Guide in any meaningful way.

“I don’t know what to do…” Tony admitted to the panther, his throat tight with emotion. “I can’t…I can’t be a Guide. I don’t know how…I blocked it all off and…”

The cat rubbed its head against Tony, comforting him.

“You know more than you realise,” The deep voice had Tony spinning around to see a man stood at the edge of the jungle.

“Shaman,” Tony murmured, recognising the Guardian of the Spirit Plane.

The man moved forward, his form shifting from a vague transparency to a solid figure in the traditional dress of a tribe long thought lost in the South American continent.

“A Guide cannot be anything other than a Guide,” The Shaman said, placing his hand on Tony’s chest, just over his beating heart. “You were born a Guide. You are a Guide. You have always been a Guide.”

Tony shook his head. “I haven’t…my empathy…I locked it away.”

“You were never without it,” The Shaman said softly. “You built these walls…”

A shimmer of light zipped across the remains of the internal shield inside him and something seemed to heal leaving him with more control than ever before. He suddenly knew he could make the walls as thick or as thin as they needed to be.

“You built these walls in a moment of distress to save you the pain of feeling your mother die and they allowed you to grow until you had the maturity to deal with the full weight of your empathy.”

Tony stared at the Shaman. “I don’t understand. They said I couldn’t Guide and that I was…”

Damaged. Broken. Worthless to any Sentinel.

The blunt words of the sneering doctor who had attended him after his mother’s death resounded in his head. Tony believed them more because they’d been said to his father rather than to Tony directly. He’d gotten sympathetic smiles and pitying glances from the Registry clinic staff; his father had gotten the unadorned truth asking the simple question of ‘how’s my son?’ when he’d thought Tony was asleep.

“The one who talked with your father was not skilled enough to make such a claim. He did not know and in not knowing denied you everything so he would not look ignorant,” The Shaman explained carefully. “But you are unique. No other Guide is the child of two Sentinels. No other Guide has your level of empathy. No other Guide needs it as much as you have and will.”

“I don’t understand!” Tony jerked away from the Shaman’s touch. “I haven’t been using it and I…”

“You have used it,” The Shaman said determinedly. “You have used it every day with every person you have encountered. You soothed the pain of a veteran hero who blamed himself for his best friend’s death; you convinced a serial killer to trust you; you motivated a man ready to die to fight for his life to keep living. You use it every day with the Sentinel who matters most to you.”

Gibbs.

He knew in his soul that the Shaman was right about that. He’d always trusted his instincts with the Sentinel – knowing when to push, when to step back, how to do both without irritating Gibbs – or how to do both and irritate Gibbs because sometimes drawing Gibbs’ ire was needed too.

Yeah, his empathy had always been there in the background because he just knew Gibbs didn’t want him as a Guide. He tried not to take it too personally since Gibbs hadn’t known he was one; knew Gibbs didn’t really want anyone as a Guide, let alone the guy he’d hired as his Senior Field Agent.

And he’d used his empathy with Ziva too. Not nearly as much because something about her set him on edge but…hadn’t that been the reason why he’d been questioning her motives for months?

“You see: you already are a Guide,” The Shaman said firmly. “You need do nothing further except be you. You will be needed in the coming days.”

That sounded ominous.

Tony felt something – a pull back to the earthly plane and –

The reality of his physical body with all its aches and pains intruded.

Tony blinked open his eyes.

The room he found himself in wasn’t the standard hospital room. He was depressingly far too familiar with those types of room and this was different. It was painted a soothing teal with accents of the wall colour carrying through to the chair covering, the cushions on the sofa across from the bed, the art work, and the linens on the bed he was lying in.

He gave a dissatisfied grunt and tried to move. Pain flooded down his injured arm which was strapped tightly to his side but he persevered and got himself upright, pushing the thick teal blanket down his legs and grimacing when he realised he was dressed in a hospital gown. His suit had probably been taken for evidence or cut off him. Either way he wouldn’t be seeing it any time soon.

Tony sighed and made to rub his good hand over his hair before he stopped at the sight of the IV attached to the back of it. He couldn’t believe that he had passed out but then the combination of suddenly getting his empathy back combined with the fight and the confrontation with Ziva…

Ziva.

He’d hit her pretty hard with a psychic instruction. He wondered if she was OK. She had to have been brought in at the same time as him.

There was a growl and a black panther jumped up on the bed. Tony managed not to jerk in surprise.

“Hey boy!” He petted the panther gently, pleased that it had followed him back from the spirit plane. He spent another moment rubbing its ears until it was purring before making another sweeping glance of the room.

“Well, I don’t know about you but I’m not staying here,” Tony muttered. God only knew what was happening with the crime scene. His heart skipped a beat at the thought of Gibbs finding out how much he had screwed up. His eyes closed.

His panther growled its displeasure.

“I hear you buddy,” Tony murmured. He snapped open his eyes again. “OK. Step one: we need to get out of here.”

He unhooked himself from one monitor and hoped it wouldn’t send an alarm to somewhere; he carefully removed the IV, hissing at the sting of the needle leaving his vein. He wriggled off the bed, barely aware of the panther jumping down to land lightly on the teal covered flooring. It was linoleum – easy to wash and keep clean but it was a step up from the grey stuff that Tony was used to.

“Step two: clothes,” Tony steadied himself against the bed and frowned. Step two might be a huge step.

Scrubs.

The medical staff had to have scrubs around the place. He could find a changing room and some scrubs and leave. They did it all the time in the movies.

“Think The Fugitive!” Tony told the panther brightly. “I’m Richard Kimble and I know my way around a hospital.” And he needed to keep one step ahead of his own Tommy Lee Jones otherwise known as Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

He walked unsteadily over to the door, feeling every step and swallowing down the rush of pain through his body. It was bad but not as bad as when he’d busted his knee. He’d be fine. He just had to suck it up.

Tony peeked out into the corridor. It was empty but a movement beyond the double doors at the end revealed the sign of a guard.

Keeping him in, Tony mused, or keeping others out? He checked the other end of the corridor. There was an emergency stairwell. OK, so he’d head to the stairwell, go down a flight. Find some scrubs. Find out about Ziva. Leave the hospital and find his way to the Navy Yard to throw himself on the collective mercy of his Boss and their Director.

Tony frowned. He’d need cash for the latter because he doubted someone had been kind enough to drive his car to the hospital. He’d had his wallet, hadn’t he? When he’d gone into Ziva’s?

The bedside table seemed far away but he hustled over to it and found his personal effects in a plastic bag with his name on it. He hurriedly checked he had enough money for a cab. His badge was in the bag and he clutched it tightly for a long moment.

His hesitation cost him. He turned back to the door and found a sturdy looking nurse blocking his escape.

The grey-haired matron folded her arms. “Going somewhere, Guide DiNozzo?” Her face was stern but he could feel her amusement. He subconsciously strengthened his shields until he couldn’t sense her anymore.

“No?” Tony said, wincing when it came out more of a question than a statement. He sighed and gestured with his wallet at the monitor he’d disconnected. “It gave me away, huh?”

“I’ll neither confirm nor deny,” The nurse said briskly. “That way you won’t know the next time you try to escape.”

Tony let her boss him back into bed as she introduced herself as Alma. Alma reattached the monitor and the IV.

“You need some pain medication?” She asked as she taped the needle back in place and checked the flow had no air bubbles.

“No,” Tony shook his head. “I need a clear mind.”

Alma almost started when the panther leaped back onto the bed. “Oh my,” she looked at the cat with wonder in her brown eyes. “He’s a beauty, isn’t he?”

“You can see him?” Tony stuttered out, reaching for his spirit animal defensively.

“Latent guide,” Alma informed him, taking up the clipboard at the end of his bed and making a note. “We all are on this unit.”

“The Guide unit,” Tony remarked, suddenly understanding the upgraded accommodations.

“That’s right.”

Damn. But then what had he expected calling it in and identifying himself as a Guide? Tony grimaced and made a mental note to head slap himself when he wasn’t feeling so achy. Maybe he could still keep it quiet. He had to – he didn’t want to lose everything he’d worked so hard to build. But then he’d had to admit he was a Guide at the scene, Tony thought belligerently; he’d had no choice with his shields almost gone. He’d seen a Guide lose her shields once after witnessing the murder of her Sentinel; she’d reduced most of the Norm first responders to tears, a paramedic had ended up having to take a sabbatical for depression, and the Guide had ended up in a catatonic coma. Which reminded him…

“You know what happened to the female Sentinel I was brought in with?” asked Tony urgently, hoping he could at least find out what had happened with Ziva.

“She registered as your Sentinel?” Alma was frowning at the paperwork.

“No,” Tony admitted, “but she’s my partner.” At Alma’s quick look-up he rushed to clarify. “Work partner. We’re…” his throat closed over the word friends. He wasn’t sure they were anymore. “We’re federal agents.” He got out instead.

Alma replaced the clipboard. “I’ll try and find out for you.” She wagged a finger at him. “No trying to escape.”

Tony sighed as she left closing the door quietly behind her. He glanced at the monitor. Maybe it was responsible for him getting caught; maybe not.

His body ached. Maybe he should stay where he was – just for a few moments. Until Alma came back with news of Ziva.

The panther curled up beside him, a comforting presence even as he tried to ignore the new reality the room signified and the panther embodied; he was a Guide. His empathy was back. His ability to bond with a Sentinel…

Tony cut that thought off before it could wander to its natural conclusion.

The door to his room opened again and Tony looked across hopefully, expecting Alma to return. Instead, Borin stepped into the room, Gibbs not far behind her.

Tony immediately tensed and felt the pull in his injured arm enough to wince. He was glad he had his shields back up because he didn’t want to contemplate what he’d sense off Gibbs.

“Easy there, DiNozzo,” Borin said sharply, as they came to stand on the left side of the bed, almost close enough for Tony to touch them.

He’d called Borin; he remembered that much. He needed someone he could trust at the scene and his contacts in the Registry were fairly limited since it was the one agency he’d never tried to cultivate a network with. But he liked Borin, (despite fearing every time she’d shown up that she’d give his Guide status away somehow); of course, the fact that she heavily reminded him of Gibbs might have had something to do with that. He had hoped he could convince her to keep his status quiet in the investigation. He glanced at Gibbs. He guessed that boat had already sailed.

He focused on his boss. “Ziva?”

Gibbs looked disgruntled and Tony felt his heart sink.

“Is she…?” He tentatively began.

“Up and about already,” Borin replied succinctly, and with enough irritation that Tony knew she wasn’t lying to him. “You want to take this from the top?”

Tony let his eyes slide to Gibbs who gave an almost imperceptible nod of agreement.

“It’s a long story,” Tony began and caught Gibbs’ pointed look, “but I can shorten it. We recovered a laptop in our latest case. Abby was doing her usual thing, found an address where it had connected to the internet; Ziva’s. I, uh…” he glanced at Gibbs guiltily before focusing back on Borin, “I went over to talk to her about it.” He squirmed back against the pillows. “Only she wasn’t home and her boyfriend was.”

“Michael Rivkin,” Borin stated. “You knew about their relationship?”

Tony nodded. “For a while,” he grimaced. “As far as I can tell, they started seeing each other when Ziva was assigned back to Israel and when she came back to the States, they continued. At first, I was just curious about who she was keeping secret, why she didn’t want us to know…I wanted her – want her to be happy and if he made her happy why was she keeping it a secret?”

Borin made an understanding noise.

“And then Rivkin turned up in LA,” Gibbs stated, pulling Tony’s attention back to the point.

“It was all…off. She was all squirrelly,” Tony confessed fully what he’d thought, knowing Gibbs had a right to be mad at him. “She told Gibbs about him when he asked outright but…”

“But not all of it,” Gibbs cut in. “You tried to warn me when I got back.”

Not strongly enough though. He’d still been protecting Ziva. Or so he’d thought at the time. Maybe he’d been protecting himself more – from Gibbs’ wrath, from Ziva’s – from the fallout of openly confronting Ziva on her loyalty rather than keeping the spats about it between the two of them.

“I told you to stay on Rivkin,” Gibbs said.

“I followed Ziva at lunchtime. Told him to take the next plane home,” Tony admitted, knowing it looked bad from an investigative point of view that hours later he’d shot the guy. “I knew it was a long shot he’d listen to me but…I really didn’t expect him to be at Ziva’s.”

“Why didn’t you leave when you realised she wasn’t there?” asked Borin.

It wasn’t an accusation and Tony tried not to take it as one.

“He invited me to wait for her. I almost left,” he said, realising he should have left in hindsight. “But then seeing him there in the apartment…”

“You started putting two and two together on how ZIva’s address got linked to that computer,” Borin finished.

Tony nodded again. “I should have called for back-up but I…I thought he’d brazen it out; let me arrest him.”

“And have Mossad bail him out,” Gibbs gave a decisive nod as though agreeing it was a reasonable theory.

“He attacked me, kicked my gun out of my hands,” Tony went red, remembering it. “We exchanged blows and then he…” he touched his injured shoulder. “He had me in a choke hold and I…well, I…that is…” he swallowed uncertain how to explain his empathy especially to Gibbs but he knew he had no choice, “my empathy came back online.” He said finally, avoiding their gazes. “I felt his intent to kill me so I threw my weight back so we’d get on the floor. We landed on the coffee table. I managed to crawl away to my gun. I’d just gotten hold of it when he came at me with a shard of glass from the table. I warned him off but he wasn’t going to stop and I shot him.”

Gibbs shifted, not allowing Tony to avoid meeting his gaze any longer. “Hey, you did the right thing, DiNozzo.”

The reassurance shining out from Gibbs’ blue eyes soothed Tony and made him let go of the doubts and second guessing he’d been doing since he’d pulled the trigger.

“Go on,” Borin encouraged.

“Well, Rivkin went down and Ziva burst in,” He’d almost shot her. “She gave Rivkin first aid while I called it in. When he died she was distraught and…”

“Tried to attack you,” Borin didn’t give him a chance to paint it any other way. “I was on the phone to you, DiNozzo.” She pointed out dryly. “I heard the whole thing.”

“Right,” Tony muttered.

“Do you want to press charges?” asked Borin.

Tony shook his head. “She was distraught,” He repeated. “She really cared about him.”

“You reported them as a mated pair,” Borin said mildly.

“He was her mate as far as Ziva was concerned,” Tony replied evenly. “I felt that much thanks to the empathy.”

Borin nodded. “The doctor on her case agrees with you.”

Tony moved restlessly. “What about me? Can I get out of here at least? I’ve only got bumps and bruises. I had worse injuries in college.” He ignored the immense amount of pain radiating from his strapped-up shoulder.

“No,” Borin said before Gibbs could reply. “Look, the doctors want to keep you overnight for observation. Your empathy unlocking itself needs to be monitored. It might not seem it right now, but you did right identifying yourself as a Guide, DiNozzo.” She glanced over at Gibbs. “Because of your Guide status, you’re also currently in Registry protective custody and you’ll remain that way until we’re convinced there will be no retaliatory actions for Rivkin’s death. I’m going to report that the evidence supports your version of events; it was self-defence.”

“Is it really necessary to give me protection?” asked Tony trying his best beguiling look as he chafed against the idea that as a Guide he needed it. “I mean, I am a fully trained federal agent…”

“Who just got his ass kicked by a Mossad Sentinel,” Gibbs spoke over him. “You don’t need to get your ass kicked again by another.”

That didn’t sound like Ziva had calmed down any.

“I guess Ziva’s mad at me still,” Tony muttered.

Borin looked over at Gibbs pointedly and Tony wondered what she meant by it, turning to look at Gibbs himself.

“She’s off the team, DiNozzo,” Gibbs admitted brusquely.

Tony’s mouth dropped open. “What?!” He couldn’t have heard Gibbs correctly.

“She confessed to providing Michael with information on NCIS operations,” Borin informed him.

Tony’s gaze snapped to hers and back to Gibbs, questioning the veracity of Borin’s statement.

Gibbs nodded and Tony caught a glimpse of the hurt in the older man’s eyes before he could hide it. “She’s been passing intel.”

Tony was shocked. He’d suspected…wondered…but ultimately he’d thought Ziva’s loyalty to Gibbs was absolute even if she’d had a problem with Tony himself. He wanted to console Gibbs but he understood that his Boss wouldn’t appreciate it.

“What’s going to happen to her?” Tony asked, worried despite himself.

“Depends on the Director,” Gibbs stated brusquely.

Tony was about to say something, he wasn’t sure what, when the door opened again.

Alma poked her head through, an irritated expression on her face. “Agent Borin, you’re needed at the front desk.”

Borin frowned. “Rest up, DiNozzo. I’ll get someone to come and take your written statement tomorrow morning.”

She was gone before he could say anything, leaving him alone with Gibbs.

Tony squirmed under Gibbs’ ice blue eyes. “Boss…”

Gibbs stopped him with a look. He glanced at the panther and Tony suddenly realised the Sentinel could see his spirit animal. Gibbs’ lips twisted as he met Tony’s chagrined eyes. “Anything you want to tell me, DiNozzo?”

-nCIS-

Tony swallowed hard and held out a hand towards the panther. It head-butted his palm and Tony petted his spirit animal taking comfort in the act as his Boss stared him down. Tony gave a bright smile to cover up his churning nerves and pulled on his most brazen mask for good measure.

“I guess the cat’s out of the bag?” He quipped.

The head slap wasn’t unexpected.

It also wasn’t as hard as it could have been.

Tony rubbed the back of his head and stared up at Gibbs suspiciously. Was Gibbs going easy on him now he knew he was a Guide?

Gibbs rolled his eyes. “You just got beaten up, DiNozzo.”

So he wasn’t going to wallop him even if he thought Tony deserved it.

The words went unspoken but Tony nodded as though Gibbs had said them out loud. “Thank you, Boss.”

Gibbs made an awkward shuffle and Tony translated that into Gibbs-speak for ‘explain yourself.’ And he did owe Gibbs an explanation. For all their ups and downs, Gibbs had recruited him, mentored him and supported him through his time in NCIS. Tony owed him the truth – or as much of it as he could say without deeply humiliating himself. He struggled to find the words though.

“It was never…” Tony began hesitantly. His green eyes flickered up to Gibbs “You have to know it wasn’t about trusting you.”

Because it definitely wasn’t about trust even if he knew Gibbs had probably taken it that way. Gibbs always took it personally when someone lied to them or held information back (although Gibbs was absolutely fine keeping secrets or lying to his team at times). He’d given Tony a hard time after the whole Frog thing despite having his back with the Director. Hadn’t he just thrown Ziva off the team for betraying Gibbs? What made Tony think his fate was going to be any different?

“I know that, DiNozzo,” Gibbs said bluntly arresting Tony’s panic before it could form the image of him being kicked out of NCIS.

“I didn’t think…”

Gibbs’ eyebrows arched mockingly.

“Let me rephrase that,” Tony said quickly, shooting Gibbs a quick glance of gratitude for giving him familiar bantering ground, “I haven’t identified as a Guide since…” his voice trailed away.

“Your Mom died,” Gibbs supplied.

Tony nodded jerkily, his hand sinking into the soft fur of his spirit animal. “The Registry didn’t consider me one either. I didn’t have conscious access to my empathy so they thought I was, well,” he winced outwardly for effect to deflect attention from the hurt he felt at the description he was about to use, “broken.”

“Only they screwed up,” Gibbs said succinctly.

Tony shrugged. “Or maybe they were right. I didn’t have conscious control of my shielding before Rivkin battered his way through it.”

He hesitated again the Shaman’s words echoing through his head, and Gibbs shot him an impatient look.

Tony sighed. “When I passed out I was in the spirit world there for a minute and I was told I always had my empathy and was using it, I just didn’t know it.”

“Makes sense,” Gibbs commented evenly, rocking back on his heels a touch. “You’ve always been good at reading people.”

Gibbs Translation: Tony had always been good at reading Gibbs and now Gibbs knew why, the Sentinel was uncomfortable.

“Anyway, I didn’t think I was a Guide anymore so…” Tony shrugged, “I didn’t tell people I was one. It wasn’t as though many people knew before anyway.”

“The Registry only found out with your Mom’s death,” Gibbs stated.

Tony tensed at the evidence that Borin had clearly filled Gibbs in on some of the backstory, but he pushed his discomfort aside to defend his mother. “My mother was protecting me mostly. She thought the Registry would be overly interested in the fact that my parents were Sentinels and I was a Guide.”

In hindsight, Tony could see his mother had feared them taking Tony away from his parents. Two alcoholic Sentinels raising a rare Guide? She’d probably had cause to be concerned.

Gibbs looked far from convinced. “Your Dad never worked it out?”

“He loved her,” Tony said quietly. It was the one certainty that he’d had in his childhood. His father had loved his mother beyond all measure. “He believed her right up until the Registry told him as I was a Guide but, you know, not.”

And Senior hadn’t really known what to do with him in the aftermath. In some ways, Tony had been thankful when his Dad’s second wife had insisted on a boarding school – and that had really been the start of simply not mentioning the Guide thing. New school. New people. Sure his Dad had had to disclose Tony was listed with the Registry but his teachers had assumed he was a latent Sentinel and, despite a slightly rocky start getting bullied, pushed him towards sports where much to his surprise he’d found his salvation.

He said as much to Gibbs. “After that, everyone just assumed…”

And so had Gibbs.

“Broke my own rule,” Gibbs agreed, ruefully rubbing the back of his own head as though he’d felt a phantom head slap. He held Tony’s gaze steady. “My door’s always open for you, DiNozzo.”

In other words, Tony could have told him.

“I know,” Tony admitted, a lump in his throat, “I just…” he hesitated unsure of whether to say anything more and sighed as he capitulated, “you’ve never made it a secret that you don’t tolerate Guides around you, Boss.” If they had to work with a Guide, Gibbs handed them off to Tony; interviews with Guides were given to any member of the team who wasn’t Gibbs. It was implicitly recognised that Gibbs only avoided his ex-wives more than he avoided Guides.

Gibbs had the grace to look chagrined.

“I mean, I wasn’t a Guide or didn’t think I was but,” Tony shrugged and immediately regretted the action, wincing, his hand flying up to support his injured shoulder, “I figured it was best just to just not mention it, and besides, I like my job.”

“I wouldn’t have fired you, DiNozzo,” Gibbs retorted – and he must have seen something in Tony’s expression despite his attempt to keep his expression neutral. “I’m not going to fire you now.”

Tony raised his eyebrows in pointed response. “You’re not exactly comfortable with me either. And I don’t need to take my shields down to tell me that.”

Gibbs sighed and shuffled, his eyes dropping to the panther for a moment before returning to Tony. “Shannon was my bonded Guide.”

The confession stole Tony’s breath and Tony didn’t need to know anything more about why Gibbs was uncomfortable with Guides. The Sentinel avoided them to avoid replicating what he’d had before – out of a duty to Shannon’s memory or out of a fear not to lose another Guide…Tony couldn’t say.

His innate compassion rose swiftly to the surface but he ruthlessly kept his face still, his eyes on Gibbs not giving away his want to comfort the older man. He knew Gibbs wouldn’t stand to be comforted. His inner Guide was practically clawing at his shields in order to understand just how wounded the Sentinel in front of him was, but Tony wouldn’t do that to Gibbs. The Sentinel was entitled to his privacy.

“I wish I could have known her,” Tony said softly. And it was a real wish. Shannon must have been a hell of a woman to have captured the attention and heart of Gibbs.

Gibbs huffed out a breath, a flash of surprise in his blue eyes that was quickly covered. “She would have loved you.”

“Yeah?” Tony started smiling, touched by the idea more than he had ever thought possible.

“Head slapped you hard for taking on Rivkin alone like that but yeah,” Gibbs said gruffly.

And Tony understood without Gibbs having to explain further that the topic of Shannon was closed and it was time for a change in subject.

“It really wasn’t planned, Boss,” Tony said, adding a dramatic wince to the end of the sentence to lighten the mood.

“Didn’t give you much of a choice,” Gibbs allowed. He examined Tony’s expression as though searching for something.

Tony’s eyes widened. “What?”

“You sure you don’t want to charge Ziva?”

If he’d been drinking he’d have done a spectacular spit-take, Tony considered as he let the shock of Gibbs’ question resonate through him.

“It’s Ziva, Boss,” Tony stuttered out.

“Doesn’t give her the right to try and kill you, DiNozzo,” Gibbs returned swiftly.

Tony looked away, trying to get a handle on Gibbs’ turnabout on Ziva. He knew finding out that Ziva had betrayed him had to be hard on Gibbs but he’d never in a million years thought Gibbs would sanction Ziva getting arrested and charged. If Tony followed through on that, with his Guide status, Ziva would be looking at prison time.

He shook his head. “She’s just hurting. She didn’t mean to…”

“Hurt you?” Gibbs suggested with more than a hint of a taunt in his tone. “Put a bullet in you?”

Tony glared at him. “I’m not changing my mind.”

“Hey!” Gibbs snapped, pointing a finger at him. “I’m just making sure that you don’t let her off out of some misguided belief that it’s what you think I want!”

Tony shook his head. “Right now, Boss, I have no idea what you want.”

Gibbs gave a grunt and dropped his finger. He moved, grabbing hold of the chair and dragging it closer so he sat right up next to Tony’s bed.

“You can’t seriously expect me to believe you’d prefer her sitting in a prison cell,” Tony stated quietly after a few minutes had passed.

“Maybe not,” Gibbs conceded eventually without looking at him, “but it doesn’t mean that she should get a free pass for hurting you either.”

Tony felt warmed by Gibbs’ matter-of-fact statement; the underlying message that he was worth something to Gibbs, valued.

“She’s lost the guy she considered her mate and she’s lost her place on the team,” Tony said seriously. “I think she’s getting punished enough.”

And speaking of losing the team…

Tony cleared his throat. “I don’t suppose we could keep this whole Guide thing between the two of us?” He tried his best puppy dog expression; it had never worked on Gibbs but there was a first time for everything.

Gibbs sighed and regarded him regretfully. “Morrow’s already informed Vance.”

“Great,” Tony muttered. That was bad, very bad. Vance never had a lot of time for him.

“Look on the bright side,” suggested Gibbs briskly, “he can’t send you afloat again.”

Because as an unbonded Guide he wasn’t allowed on the frontlines.

He wasn’t allowed on a field team.

Tony was going to need to be bonded to be in the field.

He closed his eyes. “Crap.”

Tony started at the feel of Gibbs’ hand on his forearm. A rush of warmth filled him; reassurance and a deep affection all directed at him, the physical contact ensuring it seeped through his shields.

“I told you before, DiNozzo; you don’t waste good,” Gibbs said succinctly, taking his hand away.

The mention of the rule that had encouraged Gibbs to hire Tony in the first place helped ease Tony’s mind and his battered emotions. He knew Gibbs was telling him he’d fight for him.

“Thanks, Boss,” Tony said gratefully.

The door opened and Alma walked in.

She started her observations and a frown flitted across her face as she took Tony’s blood pressure. She finished up, making a notation on the clipboard. “I’ll bring you some supper and then you need to rest, Guide DiNozzo.” She stared down Gibbs, her message clear that he should leave.

Gibbs stared back.

Tony’s lips twitched.

“Two minutes,” Alma stated firmly.

Tony watched in shock as his Boss conceded with a tilt of his head. Maybe it was the first sign of the apocalypse, Tony mused.

Gibbs got to his feet. “You stay in this room, DiNozzo. You’re in protective custody for a reason,” he stated bluntly.

Tony sighed but he had never been able to truly deny Gibbs any reasonable order and he was tired. But there was the crime scene and Vance and the team and…

“What about…”

Gibbs reached over and tapped the top of Tony’s head. He held Tony’s gaze. “I got this, DiNozzo. You got that?”

Tony felt something inside him unknot and he nodded. “Got it, Boss.”

Gibbs regarded him for a long moment and stepped away, leaving without another word.

The panther snuggled up against Tony’s side and the events of the day seemed to suddenly crash in on Tony. He could barely keep his eyes open. But that was OK; Tony could rest. Gibbs had his six.

-nCIs-

Gibbs had his phone in his hand almost as soon as he left Tony’s room. He pressed the speed dial he had for the venerable NCIS Medical Examiner and waited impatiently, moving into an alcove when Ducky picked up.

“Doctor Mallard,” Ducky said in the soft British accent that seemed only to enhance Ducky’s air of wise old man rather than diminish it.

“Ducky, I need you at Bethesda,” Gibbs said bluntly. Ducky had medical credentials at Bethesda. Gibbs knew he’d have no trouble sitting in with Tony and ensuring that Tony was in fact OK.

“A body?”

Gibbs could hear the sound of Ducky getting up from whatever chair he’d been in, the rustle of a newspaper or journal being set aside. “No body, Duck,” he replied. “It’s Ziva and Tony.”

“Oh my,” Ducky murmured. “Was it an accident?”

There were several sarcastic retorts hovering on Gibbs’ tongue but he swallowed them down and gave Ducky a run-down of the night’s events.

“Anthony is a Guide?” Ducky sounded as bewildered as Gibbs had felt when he’d heard it from Borin. “Jethro, are you absolutely certain?”

“You’d think I’d make this up?” bit out Gibbs exasperatedly.

“No, I suppose not. Any more than you would make up Miss David’s atrocious behaviour albeit motivated by her grief and feelings for her paramour,” Ducky said swiftly. “It’s just…”

“You don’t need to tell me, Duck,” Gibbs said cutting him off.

“You know it’s fascinating,” Ducky murmured, his mind skipping eagerly off to some intellectual point that had Gibbs rolling his eyes and rubbing his forehead in the vague hope Ducky wouldn’t go off on a tangent verbally. “It reminds of my time in Gibraltar and a Guide who activated late in life much to the distress of his wife and young children. Arthur was his name – or was it Arnold? It definitely began with an ‘A’ and…”

“Duck!” Gibbs snapped.

“Right,” Ducky immediately pulled himself back on topic. “I’m on my way to you now, Jethro. Will you be informing Abigail and Timothy of what has transpired with their team-mates?”

“Tomorrow’s soon enough,” he hung up to avoid the lecture that he figured he’d get. He estimated there was a fifty-fifty chance of Ducky lecturing him face-to-face when he arrived.

He made his way back to the front desk to ask if there was a waiting area. Borin had a point about Mossad not letting the death of one of their own go and Gibbs was determined he was best placed providing additional protection for his Senior Field Agent. He didn’t want to admit it but Borin and Fornell were both more than capable of investigating the rest of the mess.

The sound of raised voices had him quickening his step. He burst through the doors and into the desk area not a moment too soon in his opinion.

A tall physically impressive Sentinel loomed over Borin who, to her credit, wasn’t giving an inch. A second man, slimmer but still physically fit, with dark hair and brown eyes stayed further back, almost deferentially, with his hands clasped in front of him.

“What’s going on here?” barked Gibbs, his hand itching to go for his gun.

Borin didn’t even look at him. “Glad you could join us, Gibbs. Officer Hadar seems to be having trouble understanding English.”

Hadar dismissed Borin with a glance and moved smoothly out of her personal space to approach Gibbs. He stuck out his hand and after a moment’s hesitation Gibbs responded, shaking it perfunctorily.

“It is good to finally meet you, Agent Gibbs. Ziva speaks most highly of you,” Hadar’s body language gave away his tension despite the warm words of greeting. It didn’t go unnoticed by Gibbs that Hadar made no attempt to introduce the other man with him.

“What are you doing here, Hadar?” Gibbs said brusquely.

“As we were attempting to explain to Agent Borin, we are here on the orders of Director David,” Hadar confirmed. “He wishes an update on his daughter and, as he has been informed that Agent DiNozzo cannot travel immediately to Israel, Director David has received permission from your Director for us to question Agent DiNozzo here.”

Damn Vance and his politicking. For once, couldn’t the man put his agents first? Vance must have called Israel almost before he’d gotten off the phone with Morrow. Gibbs made sure not a hint of his displeasure crossed his face though; it would give Hadar too much to work with. But a quick glance at Borin stood off to the side with her arms folded tightly to her chest confirmed she wasn’t impressed by the situation that the NCIS Director had created.

Gibbs chose his battle. “Doc’s got Ziva sedated. She took Rivkin’s death hard.”

“Ziva and Michael have been close since childhood,” Hadar offered. “I would like to see her.”

There was nothing but genuine concern radiating from Hadar but Gibbs motioned to Borin with his head.

“Not my call,” Gibbs said simply.

Hadar did allow a small frown to cross his face.

“I was explaining to you, Officer Hadar,” Borin said in clipped tones, “the Registry has jurisdiction here; not NCIS.”

“Then perhaps you could see your way into allowing a small visit with Officer David before we question Agent DiNozzo?” Hadar replied with no hint of an apology for his previous behaviour.

“I’ll allow an accompanied visit to see Officer David once the doctor has confirmed she is awake and ready to receive visitors,” Borin conceded. She held up a hand when Hadar went to argue. “As for you questioning Agent DiNozzo? That isn’t going to happen.”

Hadar’s body language tensed almost imperceptibly but Gibbs caught the jaw muscle flexing, the brief fisting of Hadar’s hands.

“That part of it was not a request,” Hadar responded seriously. “Agent DiNozzo is responsible for killing a Mossad agent. We will be questioning him.”

Borin straightened. “DiNozzo killed Rivkin in self-defence.”

“Then there is no reason why he should not face our questions,” Hadar shot back. “After all, it is not in the best interests of the good relations between our two countries for us to have unfettered access to substantiate our findings?”

“I see I got here just in time.” Tom Morrow’s calm voice had them all turning to face the Director of the Registry.

Morrow stripped the black gloves of his hands and pushed them into the deep pockets of his dark overcoat. The other Sentinel’s nondescript demeanour gave him an unassuming air that lulled people into a false sense of security, which was reinforced by the presence of the unobtrusive bodyguards behind him, who seemed to suggest that Morrow himself was vulnerable without them. Since Morrow was a Sentinel and a damned good agent, Gibbs knew it was all a smoke screen, and Hadar was in for a shock if he thought Morrow was going to be a pushover.

“Director Morrow,” Borin greeted him with a thread of relief in her voice and Gibbs realised she must have somehow sent her boss a 911 when the Israelis had arrived.

“Agent Borin,” Morrow acknowledged her with a firm nod of his head; a signal that he’d take over. His next words confirmed it. “You are needed back at the crime scene. I have additional teams arriving here. There’s a driver waiting for you downstairs.”

“Thank you, sir,” Borin said, appearing not to mind being dismissed too much. She glanced back at Gibbs and nodded a goodbye at him.

Gibbs returned the gesture with a half-smile. “Say hi to Fornell for me, Borin.” It was a coded message for her to focus on the laptop so they’d have more ammunition against Rivkin to close down any Israeli counter-attack on DiNozzo. He knew Borin got it because she gave a ghost of a smile and was gone.

“Jethro,” Morrow walked over and shook his hand, “good to see you again.”

“Tom,” Gibbs knew Morrow emphasising their friendship was making the point with Hadar about whose side he was on.

Morrow finally turned to the Israelis and held out his hand. “And you must be Officers Hadar and Ben-Gidon.”

Gibbs registered the other Israeli’s name absently as he watched amused at the faint look of shock on both men.

“When I called to update him on our findings, Eli informed me he’d sent his best Sentinel and Guide pair,” Morrow continued, acting as though he’d believed Gibbs already had that information.

Made sense, Gibbs thought unamused at the idea of Ben-Gidon reading him.

Hadar moved instinctively closer to his Guide; protecting him. “Then perhaps we can be allowed to see Officer David and Agent DiNozzo now?”

“I’m afraid it won’t be possible tonight,” Morrow said, appearing to be apologetic even though his tone gave away that the words were nothing more than a polite excuse. “Evidence has come to light that Officer Rivkin was involved with the death of an American agent, and Officer David is under suspicion of being an accessory and sharing classified confidential US information with a third party.”

Gibbs could see that Morrow’s counter-offence surprised Hadar who looked furious.

“What is uncertain is how much Officer David knew about Officer Rivkin’s role in Agent Sherman’s death,” Morrow continued calmly.

Gibbs kept his expression neutral. “Ziva has already confessed to sharing NCIS operational details with Rivkin.”

Hadar breathed in sharply and shot Ben-Gidon a look. The Guide nodded back at him. A signal that Ben-Gidon was certain Gibbs was telling the truth. A Hebrew epitaph escaped Hadar’s lips.

“How can we be certain that this is not an attempt to divert attention from your Agent DiNozzo?” Hadar demanded.

“As I informed your Director, once Officer David has woken from her sedation and has been cleared by her attending doctor, she’ll be transferred to federal custody and taken in for questioning,” Morrow said. “In the interests of the relationship between our two countries, I have agreed with Eli that Mossad may observe when Officer David is interviewed.” He continued evenly, deliberately parroting the words that Hadar had used with Borin. “Your agency will also be given access to copies of all the evidence from the investigation into Officer Rivkin’s death, and be allowed to speak with Agent DiNozzo directly once he has been released from medical care, which will not happen until tomorrow at the earliest.”

Gibbs didn’t like the sound of that but he swallowed his protest. He’d take it up with Morrow once they were alone.

“I see,” Hadar said evenly. “And I am simply to take your word on this?”

Morrow smiled and offered his phone. “I’m sure Director David is waiting on your call.”

Hadar produced his own phone, waved it at them and made the call. He turned and paced away, giving himself the illusion of privacy as he talked in rapid Hebrew to the man at the other end of the phone. The call ended abruptly and Hadar put his phone away and straightened his jacket almost absently.

“Director David is on his way to Washington to oversee things directly,” Hadar informed them briskly. “We will leave to make the appropriate arrangements for his arrival and will contact you tomorrow for the access and evidence you have agreed to provide to us.”

Morrow nodded. “Goodnight, gentlemen.”

Hadar and Ben-Gidon walked out.

Gibbs let out a slow breath. “You got agents covering the floor?”

“I do,” Morrow said amused, “but don’t worry, Gibbs, they won’t be back tonight.” He was confident and it showed. “Eli David can’t afford to lose any more political ground.” He motioned back towards the double doors to the Guide unit. “How’s your boy?”

“He’s alive,” Gibbs said succinctly. “Are you really going to let them interrogate him?”

“Speak with him, yes,” Morrow stated firmly and raised his hand when Gibbs went to argue. “We’ve got a lot of right in this, Jethro, but it’ll only benefit us if we can demonstrate transparency our side. Vance isn’t wrong about that. The kid’s going to have to take one for the team.”

Gibbs reluctantly gave in.

“On the other hand,” Morrow commented, his tone lightening, “knowing how DiNozzo can tie the sanest person in knots, I almost feel sorry for Eli and his guys. They’re not going to know what hit them.”

Gibbs gave a huff of appreciative laughter.

Morrow started pulling his gloves back on and his expression sobered as he regarded Gibbs with sincere regret. “I’m sorry about Ziva, Gibbs.”

“Me too,” Gibbs didn’t deny it. Tom was an old friend as well as an old boss, and he could admit it to him if no-one else.

Morrow nodded sharply and started walking back to the elevator. “And for the love of God, Gibbs,” he threw over his shoulder, “call Vance.”

Gibbs waited until Morrow was out of sight before he followed the implicit order, knowing Morrow was right. Truthfully he should have called Vance as soon as he’d gotten the information from Abby on why Tony had been at Ziva’s.

“Vance,” The NCIS Director picked up on the first ring.

“Director,” Gibbs said guardedly.

“Gibbs,” Vance drawled, “so nice to hear from you.”

Gibbs rolled his eyes and paced over to a quiet corner by a pot plant and a picture of a beach. “I’ve been a little busy.”

“So I gather,” Vance snapped. “Report.”

Resisting the urge to hang up, Gibbs recited the evening’s events succinctly.

“This is quite a mess your boy’s made,” Vance said when Gibbs fell silently.

“Hey,” Gibbs shot back, “this is not DiNozzo’s fault.”

“He went without back-up which is a direct breech of protocol,” Vance rejoined.

“She’s his partner,” Gibbs threw back. “Maybe you’ve forgotten how that works.”

Vance was quiet for a moment before he replied. “I remember how it works.” He sighed heavily. “Are you sure about Officer David’s role in all this?”

“She screwed up, Director,” Gibbs admitted unwilling since it was Vance he was talking to. “She’s going to have to face the consequences of that.”

“Eli’s going to come at this like a bull at a rodeo when he lands State-side,” Vance commented. “I hope your boy’s up for it.”

“DiNozzo can handle himself,” he said, even if the Sentinel in Gibbs didn’t want Eli David anywhere near to Tony.

Vance grunted a little in disbelief.

It always annoyed Gibbs how little time Vance had for DiNozzo. He wondered sometimes if it was because Tony was the antithesis of the type of agent Vance wanted to showcase the agency, or whether it was because Tony was a stand-in for someone who’d made Vance’s life hell in the past.

“We’re going to have to talk about his status now it’s come to light he’s a Guide,” Vance warned him almost gently.

Gibbs rubbed his forehead tiredly. “Yeah, I know.”

Vance made a humming sound. “Try to remember to keep me in the loop, Gibbs.”

“Will do,” Gibbs hung up the phone relieved beyond words to be finished with the call.

Ducky exited the elevator just as Gibbs turned back around. “Jethro!”

Gibbs greeted him with a nod. “Ducky.”

Ducky took off his hat and patted Gibbs’ arm. “Let me go find out the latest on Anthony and then we’ll talk.”

Gibbs could barely summon up a faint smile for his old friend but he managed just enough to reassure Ducky into leaving him. He took a deep breath. If there was one thing Vance had been right about, it was that everything was a complete mess.

Two agents were dead. One American, one Israeli.

Two agents were hurt. One American who’d taken the physical beating of his life and now found his life in massive uproar; one Israeli who’d had her lover killed, no matter how justifiably, and who was facing up to some serious consequences.

Ziva was off his team and Tony’s future was in doubt now he was outed as a Guide. Both of them faced uncomfortable questioning of their motivations and actions.

And God only knew how he was supposed to explain all of it to Abby.

“Suck it up, Marine,” Gibbs murmured, and checking no-one was in the immediate vicinity, head slapped himself.

-nCIs-

“Tony!”

He waved away his Registry appointed guards and braced himself as his favourite happy Goth threw herself at him. Surprisingly the resulting impact was gentler than he’d anticipated, and he realised she’d made an allowance for his bruises and held back her usual exuberance.

He hugged her back, grateful for the support in the face of so many gawking agents in the bullpen. He missed the comforting presence of his spirit animal; the panther had been gone when he’d woken up.

Tony tried to ignore the sense of worry seeping through his skin which he knew wasn’t his own.

“Miss Scuito,” Agent Reyes, the tiny Hispanic Guide from the Registry, stepped forward with a disapproving frown, “you are making Guide DiNozzo uncomfortable.”

Abby hurriedly yanked herself back and Tony sent an admonishing look to Reyes who gazed back at him unapologetically.

“I’m making you uncomfortable?” asked Abby, appalled, her hands spread over her chest, hiding the obscure print of a skull and bones that adorned her black t-shirt. She’d combined it with her stud collar, cuffs and relatively normal black jeans and boots – and she’d thrown her white lab coat on over the whole ensemble.

Tony reached out and tugged the nearest pigtail. “You could never make me uncomfortable,” he lied easily, “it’s just that stuff gets through my shields when there’s physical contact, Abby.”

“Wow,” Abby said, her eyes wide and a mischievous smile on her face. “So does that mean you…”

“Abby, you can grill him later,” Gibbs interrupted her, sweeping into the bullpen with an ubiquitous carry-cup of coffee in his hand.

“If there’s anything left of me once the Israelis are done,” Tony joked, sliding into his chair and ignoring the ache in his injured shoulder.

“Don’t joke, Tony!” Abby said. “It’s not funny!” She began to pace back and forth in the area between the desks. “I mean, I can’t believe what’s happened! How could Ziva blame you like that?” She waved her hands. “Well, OK, you had just killed her boyfriend so maybe that’s slightly understandable when you think about it – but it’s you, Tony! She should know you’re like the most trustworthy person on the planet.” She paused and swung around to gesture at him. “Although you had just killed her boyfriend. In her living room. So maybe the whole trustworthiness thing was a little in doubt, but then she should know it’s you! And you’re you, Tony!”

Reyes was looking like she’d been hit by a truck. Her partner, Connor, a tall bald guy who let Reyes do all the talking looked similarly taken aback.

“And now we’re talking about the whole trust thing,” Abby continued, moving to stand in front of his desk, hands on her hips, “you know you could have told us about the Guide thing!” She frowned and glanced back at Gibbs. “Although Gibbs does hate Guides with a fiery passion of a thousand suns so I can see why you wouldn’t have wanted to tell Gibbs…”

Tony hid the wince. Knowing what he knew about Shannon, he figured that comment would hit his Boss a touch hard. A glance across the bullpen confirmed that Gibbs was resolutely staring at his computer screen which Tony knew he hadn’t even turned on.

“…but you so could have told me!” Abby continued oblivious. “Although I get that it’s your MOAS and that if it had ever come out your place on the team would have been under threat because of the whole stupid,” she made quote marks in the air, “‘Guide can’t go into the field without being bonded to a Sentinel’ crap which is so bogus and – OH MY GOD!” Her eyes went wide with horror. “Oh, Tony! You’re going to have to bond with a Sentinel!”

“Abs…” Tony began, hurrying to divert her from that line of discussion.

“But you’ve been going into the field for years without being bonded which, you know, totally substantiates Doctor Sandburg’s work, so maybe you can convince the Director that you don’t need to be bonded.” She paused another thought occurring to her. “Not that you couldn’t get bonded to a Sentinel if you wanted to get bonded to a Sentinel because you’re totally bondable! I’d bond with you if I was a Sentinel.”

Tony sighed.

“But don’t worry, Tony,” Abby continued blithely. “We will find you a Sentinel! We can…”

“Go back to work,” Gibbs cut in and she froze, peeking over her shoulder to find him right behind her. “Yates’ team is on their way back with the evidence from their scene.”

Tony wondered how Gibbs knew. Probably the Sentinel had dialled up his hearing and caught someone saying something in the building.

“Right, Bossman,” Abby hurried out, giving Gibbs a salute as she turned on her heel, “back to work.”

“Dinner,” Tony offered quickly.

Abby grinned at him as she walked out of the bullpen and towards the back stairs.

“Yates’ team catch something interesting?” asked Tony, following Gibbs back to his desk. Ducky had received the call-out just as Tony had been cleared for release.

“Murder,” Gibbs said succinctly, sitting down again. “Downtown alley-way. Outside some new club called The Great City.”

Tony frowned. He liked to keep track of the clubs. He’d learned as a rookie beat cop that knowing which bars and clubs made up the area was incredibly useful. It was something he’d carried through to his NCIS days even though his beat had gotten a lot bigger.

“The Great City is new. It’s been open about a month,” Tony recited. “Sentinel friendly. It’s owned by an ex-cop – a James…no,” he clicked his fingers, “John Larson.” Tony had liked Larson when he’d stopped in for a drink. Larson fitted well behind the bar; silver hair, friendly face, knew his cocktails and his beers…

“It’s a nice place, Boss,” Tony said. “You’d like it.”

Gibbs harrumphed and picked up the nearest file on his desk. “Send Yates the info. She might find it useful.”

“On it, Boss,” Tony spun around and headed for his own desk. “Where’s Probie?” His gut churned a little at the absence of McGee. He hoped it wasn’t because McGee had taken the news of Tony being a Guide badly or blamed him for Ziva being off the team.

“Fornell requested assistance last night breaking the laptop they found in Ziva’s apartment.” Gibbs stated. “McGee’s still over at the Registry.”

Made sense.

Tony nodded and got on with his email. It took him slightly longer than usual to type and he sent Yates a text to ensure she knew he’d sent something. 

Gibbs’ phone rang and Tony held his breath, hoping for a case or something to keep his mind off the incoming Israelis. Gibbs spent less than a minute on the phone before he dropped it back into its cradle.

“Ducky wants you in autopsy, DiNozzo,” Gibbs stated, his eyes on the paperwork that covered his desk.

Tony grimaced. Ducky and Alma had spent hours poking him that morning. Hadn’t the ME had enough? There was a small whine in his inner voice that Tony couldn’t help – he’d had more than enough of medical checks and empathic scans and…God, how much blood did they really need?

Gibbs lifted his unrelenting gaze to meet Tony’s and Tony got the silent message to stop his dithering and get his butt to autopsy.

“Going, Boss,” Tony sighed. He got to his feet and headed over to the elevator, very aware of his two guards following him.

The chill of autopsy hit him as soon as he stepped through the doors, cutting through the suit and the thin dress shirt he’d worn for armour that morning. He ignored the discomfort and frowned when Connor shivered, the Sentinel reacting badly to the drop in temperature.

“Why don’t you stay that side of the doors?” Tony suggested indicating the corridor. “There’s no other way in so…”

Connor gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem-o!” Tony flashed a smile back and moved further into Ducky’s territory, pleased when Reyes also chose to remain outside.

Ducky was at the far end of the autopsy room, covered up and ready to begin moving the body bag onto the gurney onto the table – and with the absence of Jimmy Palmer, maybe Ducky had called up to the bullpen for assistance rather than to poke at him some more.

“Need some help, Ducky?” Tony asked brightly, allowing his shields to relax for the first time since he’d entered the Navy Yard.

“If I did, my dear boy, you could hardly lend a hand in your current condition,” Ducky pointed out, gesturing with a gloved hand at Tony’s sling.

Tony waved his good hand. “I still have this one.”

Ducky smiled in amusement. “Well, I suppose if you take the bottom…”

“Gotya,” Tony said. He moved to the feet and grasped the middle of the end of the body bag. On Ducky’s mark, they shifted the body in one huge effort.

Tony stepped away at Ducky’s muttered thanks. “Where is Jimmy anyway?”

“Taking a shower,” Ducky said dryly. “He fell in the alley.  It was not one of his finer moments.”

“Ouch,” Tony said out loud, amused despite feeling bad for his friend. Jimmy didn’t always have the best luck but he was a nice guy.

Ducky finished unzipping the body bag, revealing the bruised mottled body of a male petty officer.

“This is Yates’ victim?” Tony took in the body dispassionately. He’d long since become inured to the sight of a murder victim. It was a survival technique most cops learned quickly. He mentally collected the physical evidence he could see without consciously thinking about it: bruised knees, inner thighs and scrotum; a hand-print on the left hip; bruising around the ribcage; strangulation marks around the neck; blue lips; defensive wounds on the hands…it all spoke to a violent death. He said the latter out loud.

“I’m afraid so.” Ducky said, a wealth of caring in his voice. “His last hour on this Earth was most unpleasant, but we’ll do what we can for him now.”

And Tony knew Ducky would take care; ensuring all the evidence was collected that would help find justice for the petty officer; that the body would be treated with dignity and respect.

Ducky moved around the corpse, carefully adjusting the body to slide the body bag out from under it. Tony lost in his thoughts didn’t move fast enough as Ducky reached the end of the table and the slight knock from the older man, had him stumbling. Tony reached out to steady himself and his hand landed on the petty officer’s ankle.

Rage.

Total unmitigated rage.

And the surge of arousal at snuffing the life out of the wriggling body.

Tony yanked his hand back, snapped his shields into place, and barely managed to grab the empty bowl Ducky had prepared ready for the organs before he threw up. His panther shimmied into being, growling at Tony’s distress.

“Anthony!” Ducky was at his side and his steadying presence, calmed Tony enough that he could control his heaving.

“Sorry, Ducky,” Tony said, grimacing at the taste of bile in his mouth.

“Nonsense, my dear boy.” Ducky escorted him over to the sink, stripped off his gloves and pressed a small plastic cup into Tony’s hand. “Rinse your mouth and your face. You’ll feel better.”

Tony followed the instructions and as soon as he was done, found himself shepherded into the chair by Ducky’s desk and a cup of tea handed to him. He sipped the herbal infusion gratefully and leaned against the panther who’d sat beside him, the large head against Tony’s thigh.

Ducky sat down. “Would you like to tell me what happened? I’ve never known you to get queasy before.”

“When I accidentally touched the body,” Tony shuddered delicately, “I could feel some kind of empathic residue from the killer. This really strong feeling of rage and…” he winced, “and arousal at killing.”

Ducky’s rheumy eyes went sharp with focus. “The medical profession has often wondered at the possibility of an empathic or telepathic evidence trace. This is fascinating! No wonder you were overcome, Anthony. We should probably return you to Bethesda and have them…”

“No!” Tony shook his head. “I’m fine, Ducky! No more tests.” He attempted a smile. “You and Alma did a good job this morning.”

“Ah,” Ducky’s face lit up, “the fair Alma!”

Tony started to smile, reading Ducky’s faint blush and excitement. “Oh! You and Alma, huh?”

Ducky sent him an admonishing look but his eyes were twinkling. “We may have agreed to a small libation after work this evening.”

“Go, Ducky!” Tony crowed, happy for the older man.

Ducky grinned at him. “Yes, well, we shall see.” He stood up. “And now I fear I may have to return to Petty Officer Graham’s autopsy. You’re more than welcome to stay here and rest until your shields are stable again, Anthony.”

“Thanks, Ducky,” Tony said with sincere gratitude. He did feel a little shaky and a rest sounded good to him. He watched as Ducky went about his autopsy and listened absently as the ME started recording his findings. Jimmy joined him after a few minutes, pausing to say hello to Tony and ask how he was before Ducky intervened and dragged him off to work.

Tony let his mind wander. He had worked out that Ducky had never asked for him; it had been an excuse for Gibbs to get him out of the bullpen. Possibly the Israelis had arrived. Or Ziva. Tony shook his head a touch. It didn’t matter. He appreciated Gibbs’ forethought in getting him out of the line of fire.

He spent another minute or so worrying about Ziva. He regretted how things had gone down but he knew Ziva wasn’t the forgive and forget type. He had probably ended their friendship the moment he’d shot Rivkin. He was sorry about that. He genuinely liked Ziva; cared about her. He hadn’t meant to hurt her.

The autopsy doors slid open and Yates entered with her Senior Field Agent, Mark Carrington.

Carrington always reminded Tony of Stan Burley; blond, good-looking, All American Sentinel. His background read like Tom Cruise’s character in A Few Good Men; he’d followed the family tradition of joining the Navy as a lawyer. He’d lasted a year in the Judge Advocate General’s office until he’d left, applying for NCIS, claiming he wanted in at the start of an investigation rather than cleaning up the mess after. He’d been in line for the team lead position, only just losing out to Yates and Tony liked the guy. The Senior Field Agents got together once a month for drinks, and Carrington was smart, likeable and knew his college football.

Yates was an interesting physical contrast; perfect chocolate skin tone, smooth and severely cut black bob, large chocolate brown eyes. She was a beautiful woman who knew how to dress. Her designer pant suit was sharply tailored, the heels giving her a long leg line and Tony appreciated the view as she walked over to Ducky, barely sparing Tony anything more than a nod of acknowledgement.

Carrington hesitated a few steps away and turned back, wandering over to stand surprisingly close to Tony and blocking his view of the rest of autopsy. “Hey, Tony.”

“Mark,” Tony said warmly. “Heard you caught a bad one.”

“Yeah, brutal,” Carrington agreed. “You doing OK? The rumours flying around are pretty extreme.”

Tony gave an exaggerated smile to cover his upset at the news of rumours. “I’m OK.” He gestured at the sling. “Banged up but fine.”

“You really take down David’s Mossad Sentinel boyfriend?” Carrington asked, his blue eyes shining with concern.

Tony’s heart sank as he realised what was going round the building, but he plastered his best smile onto his face. “I was trying to arrest him.”

Carrington smiled back at him. “Hey, don’t worry. All of us who know you, know you didn’t kill him in some jealous rage.”

That was reassuring.

“I can’t believe you’re a Guide, although knowing how great you are at making everyone feel comfortable with you, I should have guessed,” Carrington commented. “I want you to know that…”

“That you should be focusing on your case and not on my agent?” Gibbs suddenly loomed up behind Carrington who took a step out of the way, only for Gibbs to follow him like a dog chivvying a reluctant calf back to the herd.

“I was just showing Tony some support,” Carrington got out, jerking himself to a stand-still and staring down at Gibbs.

Ducky and Yates were both wide-eyed at the display between the two Sentinels.

Gibbs got right in his face. “Uh-huh. You stay away from him.”

Carrington flushed. “He’s unbonded, Gibbs, and you know there are a lot of Sentinels in the building who’ll want him now he’s active. I’m not the only Sentinel who’s going to be interested.”

Interested?

In bonding?

With Tony?

Tony’s heart-rate shot up in panic and he all but leapt to his feet. “Hey, Boss! Shouldn’t we be going and doing that thing that we need to go and do now?” He gestured frantically to the exit.

Gibbs gave Carrington another glare and pointed at Tony to leave first. Tony offered Ducky, Yates and Carrington a weak smile and walked out, trying for a confident air.

He entered the elevator at a clip, Gibbs right behind him, and Reyes and Connor scuttled to keep up before the doors closed.

Gibbs hit the stop button almost immediately. He whirled around and growled at Tony’s Registry guards.

“Why the hell were the two of you outside?” demanded Gibbs.

Tony stepped forward, hands up. “Boss, I told them it was OK. It was just me and Ducky.”

“Until it wasn’t,” Gibbs said, not moving from glowering down at Reyes and Connor. “They should have followed you in.”

Reyes stepped up. “You’re right, Agent Gibbs. We will do better next time.”

Gibbs dropped back and took a breath. He faced Tony. “Director David is here. He’s waiting in Vance’s office to talk to you. He and the other Mossad agents have spent the last hour examining the associated evidence on Rivkin’s death.”

“Great,” Tony muttered. “Ziva?”

“She’s in interrogation. McGee cracked the laptop,” Gibbs informed him. “It doesn’t look good for her. Once they’re done with you, we’ve been given permission to observe her interview.”

“Can I bring popcorn?” asked Tony glibly, masking his nervousness and unease with a joke like he always did.

The head slap was expected as were the outraged expressions on Reyes’ and Connor’s faces. The elevator restarted and it seemed like only a moment later they were in the secretary’s area in front of the Director’s office.

Gibbs halted and turned to Tony. “You up for this?”

Tony straightened his posture and put his best smile on. “Never been readier, Boss.”

Beside him, his panther growled low and deep, and Gibbs opened the door.

-nCIs-

Abi watched in admiration as Gibbs strode in as though he owned the office and immediately put all the important players in the room on high alert. Tony followed so naturally at his six that she wondered if it had occurred to either of them that they acted as though they were already bonded.

She nodded at her agents. “You can remain outside.” She watched as Reyes and Connor surreptitiously checked the order with Gibbs before closing the door. She would have wondered more what the exchange was about but Gibbs had a way of demanding deference out of visiting agents and she was admiring more than she was irked.

“Agent DiNozzo!” Morrow greeted him warmly. “It’s good to see you again even if it is in these difficult circumstances.”

“It’s good to see you too, sir,” DiNozzo smiled at Morrow – a genuine smile not one of the ones he pulled out to mask himself.

“DiNozzo,” Vance cut in. “Let me introduce you,” he gestured at the tall, bear-like, white-haired man next to him, “this is Director David of Mossad. His agents Officers Hadar and Ben-Gidon…”

Tony nodded an acknowledgement to them but his eyes remained guarded and Abi had a sense that he wasn’t comfortable with the presence of a bonded pair.

“You know Director Morrow, of course, and Agent Borin.”

Abi gave a brisk nod.

“And Agent Fornell,” Vance completed the introductions.

Morrow gestured at an empty chair at the head of the conference table. “Please take a seat.”

“Thank you, sir,” DiNozzo gave no sign of irony as he sat down, unbuttoning his suit jacket with one hand.

Gibbs sat down beside him, flashing a look around the table as though daring anyone to argue with him.

Abi hid her smile and pointed at the coffee carafe behind her. “Coffee, DiNozzo, Gibbs?” She was damned if she was going to make DiNozzo feel this was an interrogation.

“No, thanks,” DiNozzo said politely. “Water will be fine for me, but Gibbs’ll take a coffee.”

Gibbs shot DiNozzo a look but didn’t argue. Abi poured both Gibbs and herself a drink before she took a seat on the opposite side of DiNozzo.

Morrow opened a bottle of still water and placed it beside DiNozzo. He sat next to Abi and Fornell took the seat next to him.

Eli David frowned. “I was hoping for a more private discussion between myself and Agent DiNozzo, Leon?”

It was Morrow who answered. “I’m afraid Agent DiNozzo’s revised status as an active but unbonded Guide means that he has to have Registry representation present. The FBI has shared jurisdiction on the Rivkin and Sherman cases which accounts for Agent Fornell, and NCIS protocol means that Agent DiNozzo is entitled to have his superiors accompany him.”

David gave a grunt of disapproval and sat at the top of the table opposite DiNozzo; his agents took the seats either side of him. Vance took the empty chair next to Gibbs.

“Well, we all know why we’re here,” Vance said dryly. “Eli, you had questions?”

David kept his posture relaxed, sitting back in his chair, his large hands settling on the brown folder in front of him. “I feel like I know you already, Agent DiNozzo.”

DiNozzo smiled sharply. “Is that so, Director?”

Vance stiffened and Abi figured the NCIS Director was not at all certain of how DiNozzo was going to act, despite informing her and Morrow that he’d had Gibbs instruct DiNozzo to be co-operative. Of course it was entirely possible that Gibbs had given DiNozzo completely different instructions.

David smiled back just as sharply. “I know all about your achievements and your failures.”

DiNozzo held David’s gaze. “I’m particularly proud of winning that best Halloween costume competition. I mean, come on!” He gave another supercilious smile. “Sure using my Dad’s ski suit to make it might have been wrong but it was so worth not being able to sit down until Christmas. Am I right?”

Abi felt her lips twitch at the disgusted expression on David’s face and quickly controlled her expression.

“My Ziva warned me of your childish deflections, Agent DiNozzo,” David said sternly. “I assure you; they will not work on me.”

Tony leaned back in his chair, a soft smirk on his face. “Officer David warned you about me? I think I’m flattered. I didn’t think I warranted as anything more than a footnote with her.”

Vance glared at DiNozzo who paid no attention. Gibbs subtly drew Vance’s eye and Vance subsided at a quick glance at Gibbs’ face. DiNozzo and David never broke eye contact.

David smiled suddenly as though he scented blood. “That bothers you? That my daughter does not appreciate your contributions?”

“The person I need to appreciate my contributions appreciates my contributions,” DiNozzo responded confidently. “As for Ziva?” He gave a small face shrug; the features lifting up slightly before falling again into the same smirk he’d worn before. “I’ve never minded. Footnotes can be very important.”

In other words, Officer David potentially had underestimated her team-mate. It hadn’t escaped Abi’s attention that David made fast judgement calls and rarely moved from her initial position, whether she’d judged someone good unworthy or whether she’d judged someone unworthy good. If she’d been a member of Abi’s team David’s lack of people skills would have come up at her reviews. David was bad at reading motivations, subtleties, and standard human behaviour generally. Given DiNozzo’s prowess at undercover, he must have found it the easiest thing in the world to draw her into believing he was one thing and ensuring she overlooked his dangerous side completely.

“Or how troublesome?” needled David. He tapped the folder. “Your failures are what I wish to speak of.”

DiNozzo shifted in his chair as though squirming although Abi would bet it was all an act. “If this is about the pictures of me on Facebook, I just want to say that I had no idea they had cameras!”

Abi sneaked a glance at the NCIS Director. He looked as though he was about to have an apoplexy; her own Director was hiding his face in a cup of coffee she knew he’d drained dry already.

“I am talking about your inability to separate your emotions from your job,” David’s chair scraped back as he got to his feet, irritated into moving. He paced around the table. “It is something you have failed at before, no? With Miss Benoit?”

“Your point?” asked DiNozzo looking rattled for the first time.

David paused by DiNozzo’s chair, forcing DiNozzo to lean uncomfortably back to look at him. David gestured emphatically. “My point, Agent DiNozzo, is that you allowed your feelings to overcome you again last night when, in a jealous rage, you went to my daughter’s apartment and engineered a confrontation with her lover in order to remove him from her life!”

DiNozzo didn’t flinch. “It’s as my report stated, Director. I went to Officer David’s apartment to provide her with an opportunity to come forward about the evidence we had found on a laptop found with a known terrorist. On seeing Officer Rivkin there, another explanation presented itself for that evidence and I attempted to arrest him. He resisted. It was kill or be killed.”

“I do not believe you understand the seriousness of your situation,” David growled.

Gibbs bristled but he kept still.

DiNozzo’s eyes pinned David. “Oh, I understand it.”

David took another step into DiNozzo’s space, forcing DiNozzo’s head back further to maintain the eye contact. “And what do you understand?”

DiNozzo smiled; all teeth and no humour. “I understand that it must be difficult to come to terms with losing control of your agent, or should I say agents since Officer David wasn’t exactly in control either.”

David’s expression darkened with the taunt.

“But it isn’t the first time, is it? After all, Ari was way out of control and he was your son,” Tony laughed mockingly. “Maybe you’re the one not separating emotion and work since you pushed Rivkin at your daughter and have this habit of letting your agents roam around doing whatever they want.”

David leaned down abruptly, making himself nose to nose with DiNozzo, one hand landing heavily on DiNozzo’s uninjured shoulder. “My agents answer to me!”

Gibbs frowned but didn’t interfere; Hadar was shifting to signal his boss, understanding the danger, but David was oblivious to anything but DiNozzo’s sneering face.

“Rivkin?” DiNozzo pushed.

“Always!” David snarled.

DiNozzo gave a satisfied half-smile and turned away to look pointedly at Morrow.

David sprang back into a standing position and gave a surprised huff.

Abi let out a slow breath, realising she had been holding it as the tension had escalated. She noticed Fornell exchanging a look of relief with Gibbs.

David returned to his seat, adjusting the cuffs of his immaculate shirt. “Perhaps I need to revise your status as a footnote, Agent DiNozzo.”

DiNozzo remained silent, not bothering to answer and not needing to since he’d proven himself more than capable of handling David’s heavy handed bullying tactics.

“Explain the mission you had Rivkin on,” Vance asked bluntly, surprising Abi who’d kind of taken him as a suck-up for David.

David sighed and glanced at Vance.

Vance didn’t flinch, just returned the gaze evenly; expectantly.

“I informed you of the sleeper cell,” David began.

“Rivkin was already on it,” Vance returned swiftly. “I think you told us so OSP would do the work for you in hunting them down here in the States. Officer David has – had access to our files.”

David shrugged. “We did not have time to waste.”

“Patience is a virtue,” Vance tossed back.

“Where I sit, patience can get you killed,” David retorted.

“And sometimes a lack of it can get two agents on the same side killed for no good reason,” Vance rejoined.

David acknowledged the hit with a wave of his hand. He finally surrendered and sat forward. “We are attempting to locate a terrorist training camp in North Africa. We have not been able to pinpoint its location but we had intelligence that a sleeper cell was operating out of the United States.”

“So you sent your agent to get the location from the cell,” Morrow stated.

“Only the situation became complicated,” David admitted.

“Because OSP was better than you anticipated and moved faster than you had planned for,” Fornell asserted.

“And Rivkin hadn’t brought his A-game,” DiNozzo added, drawing David’s attention to him again.

Vance scowled at DiNozzo, clearly unhappy that DiNozzo had not faded into the background.

“Agent DiNozzo is unfortunately correct,” David allowed. “But Michael informed me that he believed he had another lead on the information.”

“Tabal,” Gibbs spoke up.

“And that’s when things really went off the rails for your man,” Fornell chipped in. “Beginning with the death of Thomas Sherman as accidental as it was.”

“His last communication with Mossad was yesterday morning. He reported none of his actions in regards to Sherman or Tabal. His report suggested he was still attempting to locate the information,” David said. “In hindsight, I should have recalled him and arranged for an extraction.” He sighed. “And ultimately keeping him in play was for nothing. The information on the terrorist camp is lost to us all.”

Gibbs, Fornell and Vance exchanged a long three-way look and Abi sat back, folding her arms over her chest.

Vance leaned forward and clasped his hands on the table. “We have Tabal’s laptop. We have the information on the terrorist camp. We will share this with you as allies, Eli.”

“Thank you, my friend,” David said warmly.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Vance warned him. He nodded at Morrow.

“In exchange for this information, Israel will formally agree to the findings of the Registry investigation into the death of Officer Rivkin and clear Agent DiNozzo of any wrong-doing. You will also provide restitution for Agent Sherman’s family.” Morrow stated sternly.

David gave a nod. “I will accept your price.”

Abi frowned. It stuck in her craw that essentially the whole thing was being brushed under the carpet for the sake of the greater picture; she understood it but she didn’t like it. From the look of Gibbs’ thunderous expression, he was less than impressed too. DiNozzo’s mask was absolute; Abi had no idea what he was thinking or feeling.

“Gentlemen, Agent Borin,” Vance said, pulling Abi’s attention back to the meeting, “we have one last item of business; Officer David.” He reached over for the remote and switched the monitor on against the far wall.

The picture showed one of the NCIS interrogation rooms very clearly. Ziva was already there, sat in one of the chairs. She wore black; a tunic of some kind paired with black cargo pants. She was incredibly still and silent.

“We were due to observe her interview but with the revelations of the past five minutes I’m not sure we need to speak with her at all.” Vance pointed to the monitor with the remote control. “She was the handler for Rivkin’s original mission here?”

“The NCIS information she shared with us was directly related,” David confirmed. “She did make the point to me more than once that I could have simply asked for your assistance, Leon, and I made the point that you had never explicitly ordered her not to share the information.”

Vance harrumphed. “That explanation accounts for the email exchanges we unearthed between her and Rivkin containing NCIS intelligence.”

“What about her involvement after the death of Thomas Sherman?” Fornell asked bluntly.

“I do not believe she suspected Michael’s involvement until Tabal was found dead,” David shot back, outwardly calm and unaffected by the question.

Abi knew he had to be squirming on the inside if he had any feelings for his daughter.

“At which point, she reported his uncontrolled behaviour and requested an extraction for him,” Hadar added.

“Interesting timing,” Abi replied. “The call log of her phone suggests she made that call only moments before entering her apartment last night.”

“I cannot speak for her timing,” Hadar said. “I can only affirm what she did.”

Morrow cleared his throat. “It’s clear that criminal charges would be difficult to bring to bear in this case.”

Fornell snorted but conceded the point with a sigh and a nod. “If she’d gotten him out of the country, we’d have grounds for accessory to flight but we don’t, so no charges which pisses me off.” He stated frankly enough to have everyone staring at him.

Abi sympathised with him. It annoyed her too that Ziva David got to simply walk away from the damage she’d helped to cause.

Fornell glared at the Israelis. “Sherman’s death was accidental but Officer David’s first duty as a law enforcement agent operating in this country was to report Rivkin’s assault on Sherman to her team leader.”

“Her first duty is always to Mossad,” David countered.

“Which is why the liaison position has become untenable,” Vance leaned back, holding David’s gaze for a long moment before gesturing towards the monitor. “I feel for her, Eli. It couldn’t have been easy this past month being tugged between her responsibilities to NCIS and to you.” He pointed at Eli. “That’s on you; you put her in that position.”

David nodded slowly.

“And in putting her in that position, you’ve proven that she’ll put Mossad ahead of NCIS to the detriment of our operations, protocols and more importantly, the laws we uphold,” Vance continued, his dark eyes glittering. “I cannot take the risk of her doing that again. The liaison position is finished.”

“It is unfortunate, my friend, but I understand,” David raised his hand momentarily from the table.

“I’m glad you do, Eli, because I’m still not certain that this whole clusterfuck isn’t down to you testing your daughter’s loyalty again,” Vance commented. “I would have thought killing her brother on your orders to gain a foot in the door here with the people who mattered would have been enough of a loyalty test to last a decade.”

Gibbs went frighteningly still and DiNozzo shifted position a touch to bring his arm in contact with Gibbs’. Abi figured the reassurance the Guide provided was enough to take the edge of Gibbs’ sudden anger because Gibbs remained silent.

David looked almost admiringly at Vance. “You are that determined to burn her bridges, Leon?”

“She burned them. I’m just salting the ashes,” Vance said with apparent careless ease.

Abi was suddenly a little impressed with Vance.

“She’s not welcome here anymore,” Vance said, getting to his feet and as though to underline his decision, he switched off the monitor. “She’ll be released into your immediate custody. I strongly suggest you take her home to Israel.”

David gave a moue of agreement.

“With your permission, Directors, I’ll take care of the release?” Gibbs asked politely.

Morrow glanced at her and Abi shrugged. She wasn’t averse to Gibbs performing the duty. Vance nodded his own agreement when Morrow agreed.

David gestured at Hadar. “Accompany him, Amit. I do not doubt my daughter will appreciate a familiar face.”

Hadar bowed his head and stood up. Gibbs got to his feet and DiNozzo scrambled to his.

Gibbs stopped and pointed back at DiNozzo’s chair. “DiNozzo, you sit here and you don’t move until she’s out of the building.” He looked at Abi. “You’ll…”

“Guard him with my life,” Abi promised. She was beginning to wonder if the impression of being bonded wasn’t actually a reality; Gibbs was already acting as though Tony was his to protect. Yeah, Abi mused, that was going to be a problem.

David rose from the table, buttoning his suit jacket. “Walk me to my car, Leon?”

Abi half-heartedly took part in the handshakes and insincere goodbyes. Ben-Gidon followed his boss. Morrow winked at her and left with Vance, leaving her alone with Fornell and DiNozzo.

Fornell picked up his trench coat. “Well, my work here is done.” There was an edge of disgust to his tone. He dipped his head toward Abi and headed out, shutting the door behind him.

DiNozzo dived across to Vance’s desk and picked up the abandoned remote.

“Are you seriously going to spy on them?” Abi asked, half-appalled and half-pleased.

DiNozzo tapped his chin with the remote. “It’s not spying so much as…” he gave a dramatic wince, “well, OK, it is spying but don’t tell me you don’t want to know.”

Abi frowned and took a sip of her coffee. She didn’t think it was a good idea. Her instincts were screaming at her to talk DiNozzo out of it. But her curiosity was stronger and God knew if anyone deserved to know David’s last words before she left, DiNozzo deserved to know. She plucked the remote out of his hand and turned on the monitor.

-nCIs-

Gibbs was silently pleased when Hadar politely requested a cigarette break before they spoke with Ziva. It was a good excuse to get rid of the Israeli Sentinel. Hadar made for the stairs and the nearest exit; Gibbs headed into the elevator where he could think.

His mind was whirling as he hit the stop button. David had ordered Ari’s death? Ziva had been ordered to kill Ari to gain his trust?

Gibbs made a frustrated sound and slapped the side of the elevator hard; the pain forced him to focus and stop himself from zoning. He took a deep breath and got control of the chaos in his head.

Work it through, Gibbs told himself harshly; start at the beginning…

Ziva had arrived on the heels of Kate’s death to extract Ari from the States. She’d been an enemy. One who’d worked determinedly to avert Gibbs from finding her brother; one who’d manipulated Jenny Shepard into questioning Gibbs’ belief that Ari was the killer and created another obstacle to his hunt.

Her actions all spoke to a belief in her brother’s innocence. She hadn’t been lying about that. As a Sentinel he could tell when someone lied, even another Sentinel who had great control of her body, and she hadn’t been lying about that.

So, if David had ordered her to kill Ari…why had she worked so hard to get her brother to safety?

Was Eli David lying? Gibbs snorted. It wasn’t outside the realms of possibility but the fact that Vance had said it rather than David meant it held some element of truth. Vance obfuscated with the best of them but he rarely outright lied.

Which meant David might have ordered Ziva to kill her brother – to clean up the mess her brother had made with the NCIS team – but Ziva…Ziva had chosen to believe in her brother and give him every opportunity to escape with his life.

Gibbs would bet his house on that.

He would bet his life on it and had.

When it had become obvious that she’d done the legwork on investigating his team – had given Ari the intelligence about the team that had enabled Ari to hurt them – Gibbs had called her on it. Kate was dead because Ari had targeted her on the basis that taking out the women who held a place in his life would unsettle Gibbs, bring back memories of his dead wife and child, and poke at a wound that was still raw so many years later. And a guilty Ziva had been taken Gibbs’ dare to trap her brother, to find out for certain if her brother was innocent.

He repressed the urge to sigh.

Ziva had done it hoping to prove her father wrong; hoping to prove Gibbs wrong. In the end, she’d been faced with the truth of her brother’s deception. So she’d killed her brother, gained Gibbs’ trust, and maybe, maybe that had been in line with her orders but she hadn’t done it because she’d been ordered.

He hoped he was right and there was only one way to know for certain. He re-engaged the elevator.

There was no sign of Hadar outside the interrogation room; two NCIS guards stood sentry. Gibbs ordered them briskly away. He took a deep breath and entered the room.

Ziva looked over when the door opened and her eyes widened imperceptibly. There was a flash of something that might have been hope before she got her mask in place. “Gibbs.”

“Ziva,” Gibbs sat down opposite her.

She folded her arms across her chest and looked at him evenly. “You are to question me?”

“I’m just here to talk, Ziva,” Gibbs told her. “Your father’s explained the mission you were given. He’s taken responsibility for ordering you to keep Mossad informed about our activities in LA with the sleeper cell.”

“Then,” she sat forward eagerly, her hands coming to rest clasped together on the table, “you understand why I did what I did.”

“I understand duty to your country,” Gibbs agreed. “You and I have always had that in common.”

Ziva breathed out and dropped her gaze to the table briefly, relief playing across her features. “Yes. We have.”

“What were your orders regarding Rivkin?” asked Gibbs. If she’d had orders about Ari, it followed that she had orders about the dead Israeli Sentinel.

She stilled, not expecting the question. But her chin came up defiantly. “I was ordered to assist Michael in his mission to interrogate the members of the sleeper cell and eliminate the threat to Israel.”

Gibbs sensed it wasn’t the whole story. He kept hold of her gaze. “And the rest of your orders? The non-mission specific ones? What were they?”

Something flickered in her eyes and for a long moment Gibbs thought she’d refuse to answer.

“When I returned to Israel, my father informed me that Michael had been through a very hard mission. He had barely survived.” Ziva allowed finally. “My father was aware that Michael and I were friends from childhood; he believed Michael needed a friend. I was partnered with him to watch over him and determine his fitness.”

“And was he?” Gibbs pressed.

“Was he what?” Ziva questioned, playing dumb.

He shot her a look.

Ziva squirmed, caught herself squirming and stopped. “Yes,” she bit out. “He was until…”

“Until he killed Sherman,” Gibbs supplied.

“I did not know!” Ziva said hurriedly. “I swear Gibbs!”

“You suspected enough to try and get him out of the country,” Gibbs stated gruffly, his hard eyes unrelenting as hers turned pleading.

“He…I was his handler,” Ziva offered. “It is standard protocol for a compromised agent in a foreign country to be extracted back to Israel.”

“Just as you attempted to extract Ari,” Gibbs leaned forward. “What were your orders on him?”

Her whole body froze and he could see the faint tremble of her body. She looked at him in horrified realisation.

“Gibbs…”

“You were ordered to kill him and win my trust,” Gibbs answered for her. “Congratulations, Ziva. You followed your orders.”

“No!” Ziva exploded from the chair and paced away, only to turn around. “It was not…I did not come to kill Ari! I came to protect him and you – you meant nothing to me then!”

Gibbs felt a curl of satisfaction. “I know.”

“You know?” Ziva stared at him perplexed. “I do not understand…” she shook her head as though trying to dislodge a thought, her ponytail swinging behind her.

“Rule three,” Gibbs said simply. Verifying what he was told, confirming facts and information, was a good investigative standard but it played into real life too. Gibbs knew sometimes he’d still assumed too much despite the rule.

Ziva subsided back into her chair. “I cannot believe my father told you.”

“He didn’t,” Gibbs answered. He leaned forward. “But I should have realised when you turned up; should have questioned your presence more. Broke rule thirty-nine.”

She visibly swallowed at his hard tone. “If you know…” her gaze lifted back to his, liquid soft and filled with tears, “you know that I…he was my brother, Gibbs. Nothing else…none of it mattered.”

Gibbs sighed heavily. He knew killing Ari had cost her a lot personally, and he had no doubt that returning to NCIS to take up the liaison position had been incredibly difficult for her. But he also remembered the power games she’d played with Tony the first year; the power games she had taken to replaying since the team had reformed and when she thought he wasn’t watching. He hardened his heart. Sometimes love was meant to be tough.

“What were Rivkin’s orders about you?”

“What?” Ziva stuttered out, her eyes still damp.

“You had orders to befriend Rivkin. What were his orders about you?” Gibbs reiterated almost gently.

“Gibbs…” Ziva shook her head. “He did not…”

“You sure about that, Ziva?” Gibbs pressed.

She stared back at him.

Gibbs pressed his lips together and sat forward. “Tony’s a high level Guide.”

Her dark eyes widened and it was enough to let him know that whatever information she’d unearthed about Tony, his true status hadn’t been amongst it.

“It’s impossible!” Ziva argued passionately. “He cannot be a Guide!”

“He didn’t trust Rivkin,” Gibbs continued as though Ziva hadn’t spoken. “Tony figured you were being played.” He waited a beat. “Maybe I’m not the only one who needs to be reminded of the rules. You should verify the facts, Ziva. You think it was a coincidence that an old childhood friend suddenly needed your help just at the moment Vance sent you back to Israel?”

Ziva swore loudly in her native language and leapt to her feet, half-feral. She gestured at him. “I should kill you where you sit!”

“For telling the truth?” Gibbs goaded, poised to defend himself if he needed to if Ziva lost control and went feral.

“You sound like DiNozzo!” Ziva snapped. “You are questioning my judgement about Michael! Questioning my loyalty!”

Gibbs pushed his chair back as he got to his feet, suddenly angry. “Yeah, and DiNozzo was right!” He stabbed a finger through the air toward her. “You were passing on intel that jeopardised one of our missions! You weren’t loyal to us! Not to NCIS, not to Tony and the team, not to me!”

“I did my job!” Ziva yelled.

Gibbs took a deep breath.

The interrogation room door opened and Hadar stepped inside. Gibbs scented the faint hint of tobacco and smoke; a wisp of fresh air carried on the material of Hadar’s suit.

“I heard you yelling two floors away,” Hadar commented.

His stern countenance had Ziva freezing before she clearly forced herself to relax. “You need not come to my rescue, Amit. I can take care of myself.”

“One could argue the point given recent events,” Hadar returned darkly.

Gibbs forced himself not to show any surprise at Hadar’s clear irritation at Ziva.

Ziva bristled. “I told you to extract Michael!”

“Too late,” Hadar rejoined. “You knew he was compromised and you did nothing!”

“I gave him a chance!” Ziva argued. “He was my mate!”

“He was whatever you wanted him to be because those were his orders,” Hadar ripped away the last of Ziva’s hope that what she had felt had been reciprocated.

“No!” Ziva shook her head violently, breathing heavily, and Gibbs cast a look of disapproval at Hadar who ignored it.

“You have blind spots, Ziva. You deluded yourself about Michael just as you deluded yourself about Ari,” Hadar continued harshly. “Michael killed an American, would have killed your Agent DiNozzo. He was out of control and he needed to be stopped. You were his handler. It was your responsibility!”

“This is not my fault!” Ziva defended herself passionately. “If DiNozzo…”

“Hey!” Gibbs snapped, breaking in before she could get started, “I told you before; you don’t get to blame DiNozzo for your mess!” He straightened his shoulders a little. “Tony was right about Michael, about you, and he was doing his job and still trying to be a friend to you – and he almost got killed doing it! If you hadn’t been so determined to believe in the guy who had orders to play you, this whole thing could have been avoided!”

Ziva glowered defiantly at both men, a wild look in her eyes.

Gibbs held his breath as the tension in the room rocketed.

A sharp knock on the door broke the impasse between the three Sentinels.

Gibbs glowered as Ducky entered the room. He was out of his medical coat, dressed in simply his shirt, pants held up with tartan braces and a matching bow-tie.

Ducky smiled warmly, seemingly oblivious to the awkward atmosphere. “My apologies for the interruption, gentlemen, but if you are done,” – and there was an underlying sternness that told Gibbs as far as Ducky was concerned they were done – “there are some people who would like to say goodbye to Ziva before she leaves.”

“I am to leave?” Ziva asked, her eyes flashing to Gibbs’ questioningly.

Gibbs took a deep breath, regaining his control. “The liaison position has been terminated. The FBI have agreed not to bring charges against you for the assistance you provided Rivkin. You’re being released into the custody of Mossad with orders to leave the States.”

Ziva’s whole body seemed to deflate inwards. She folded her arms over her chest and her head dipped down.

“Perhaps you would allow me to escort you, my dear, to Abigail’s lab,” Ducky stepped forward and offered the crook of his arm.

Ziva breathed in sharply, her head coming up to stare at the medical examiner. But as her eyes raked Ducky’s and found nothing but sincerity, she nodded jerkily and took his arm.

“Thank you, Ducky.”

Hadar made to say something and Gibbs cut him off with a brisk hand gesture. Gibbs tried to catch Ducky’s eyes, but Ducky avoided his gaze and simply ushered Ziva out of the room.

Gibbs frowned. Ducky’s appearance had been timely, and it wasn’t unusual for Ducky to interfere if he thought it necessary…but how had he even known to enter the room at that exact time?

The red blinking light of the camera snagged Gibbs’ attention and his frown deepened.

Tony.

-nCIs-

Ziva kept her hand in the warm curve of Ducky’s elbow and forced herself to focus on the medical examiner’s gentle babble about something to do with the weather? She had no interest in the topic but the endless words in Ducky’s gently English accent soothed her battered emotions; her battered thoughts.

Part of her could not believe that only hours had passed since she had burst into her apartment and found Michael and Tony. It felt to her like it should have been days – years that had to have passed. She felt so old.

She trembled faintly and surreptitiously breathed deeply and calmly to regain her inner control. Her emotions were chaotic, even more so after the berating she had received from both Gibbs and Hadar. No-one took her side, Ziva inwardly grumbled. But then why would they?

She had struggled for months – stuck between her first loyalty to her mother country and her duty as a Mossad officer, and her personal loyalty to Gibbs and the obligations she had willingly taken on as a member of his team; stuck between her growing feelings for Michael and her unresolved feelings for Tony.

She had been so conflicted. She had understood Michelle Lee’s motivations more than she had even allowed herself to show. She had so wanted to stop pretending. She had almost given in and confessed all to Tony, inviting him to an intimate meal at her apartment. Only she had lost her courage in the awkward silence of the meal and by the time Michael had called, she had talked herself out of confiding in her partner. Perhaps if she had…

Ziva’s step almost faltered and she tightened her grip on Ducky’s arm just short of painful.

Her heart stung with the remembered hits of Gibbs’ and Hadar’s lectures.

She had made mistakes.

She had made a mess.

It was her fault.

And she knew it only stung so much because they were right.

But better to blame DiNozzo than blame herself. Better to mad at him than acknowledge her weakness and failure.

Tears prickled at the back of her eyes but she kept them furiously at bay. She would not breakdown; she would not.

Ducky led her into the elevator and paused blocking the doorway to Hadar who had followed them – Gibbs was strangely absent.

“If I may ask for a moment alone with Ziva, Officer Hadar?” Ducky smiled genially. “I believe you finished your previous cigarette break early?”

Hadar’s eyebrows rose. He glanced quickly at Ziva, checking she had no objection.

“I will be fine with Doctor Mallard,” Ziva said stiffly.

“I will meet you out front,” Hadar offered.

Ducky beamed at him with satisfaction and urged Ziva through the elevator doors. They slid shut. She wasn’t surprised when a moment later he reached forward and used the stop button.

“Ducky…” she began defensively.

Ducky hushed her. His kind eyes scoured her in a brief once over and she understood the doctor in him was taking the opportunity to observe and catalogue evidence of her well-being. She almost laughed hysterically at the thought; she could hardly contemplate being well ever again.

Ducky took one of her hands in both of his and squeezed gently. “You have had more than enough lectures, Ziva, but if I may offer some advice?”

Ziva felt her hand tremble in his but she nodded quickly.

“I cannot imagine the heartache you must have endured these past months since your father placed you in such an unfathomable position,” Ducky murmured. “Nor can I imagine how you must feel after the revelations concerning your young man.”

For the first time since Michael’s death, grief overwhelmed her, drowning out the anger in the face of Ducky’s immense compassion.

She gave a small sob and Ducky gathered her, holding her gently as she cried softly.

Michael was dead.

Perhaps it had not been real to him; perhaps she had only been a duty and an obligation…but she had loved him terribly – or more accurately, she had wanted to love him terribly, to consider him her mate. He was exactly the type of man her father would approve of her marrying. Unlike DiNozzo…

No, she couldn’t risk loving Tony.

After the whole thing with Jeanne Benoit had been revealed she had known she would never be able to trust him with her heart. Tony had fooled her so fully. It had been startling to realise in the aftermath that she had been a heartbeat away from falling for his undercover persona; for the man in love with Jeanne. Only none of it had been real and she had felt betrayed, angry with herself for falling for the illusion especially when it was clear Tony had been good enough he’d even fooled himself into love with Jeanne. And so she had pushed the thought and idea of being with him away; kept him at a safe distance as her friend, as her partner.

In some ways, she had been relieved to be sent back to Israel after Jenny’s death. She had thought to re-centre herself in her homeland, in her culture. She had chosen Michael.

And perhaps her anger at Tony over Michael’s death was not so much that he had killed Michael but that it had ever come to that point in the first place. If Tony hadn’t lied to her…hadn’t caused her to distrust him. Would she have chosen him instead?

Her tears flowed harder and she clutched Ducky closer as she gave into the deeper grief of lost opportunities and chances.

Ducky simply held her through the weeping storm, murmuring nonsense in her hair as he patted her back with gentle taps of reassurance that she wasn’t alone. She finally gathered herself together, easing away from Ducky’s comforting embrace and trying to mop up what remained of her dignity, swiping at her face.

The medical examiner produced a large white linen handkerchief and swiftly went about cleaning up her face.

“Blow,” He instructed.

Ziva gave an embarrassed laugh but took hold of the handkerchief and followed the order. Embarrassed was a good word for how she felt.

And calm.

It was as though the storm of her grief had passed like a thunder cloud over a valley, leaving everything clean and renewed and wet in its wake.

“Thank you, Ducky,” she said gratefully. She crumpled the handkerchief between her fingers. “I have been a fool.” She shuddered a little at thought of Abby’s reaction; of McGee’s. Would they hate her?

“We all make mistakes, Ziva,” Ducky said sagely. “Have faith in your friends.” He restarted the elevator.

She was still hesitant as she walked into Abby’s lab.

Abby, Jimmy and McGee were clustered by Abby’s main computer. Evidence bags littered the table in front of them, and Ziva realised that the forensic scientist was in the middle of a case.

Ziva froze as the three fell silent at her entry.

Suddenly Abby moved, crossing the lab swiftly and gathering Ziva up into a fierce hug. Ziva hugged her back.

“I’m so mad at you!” Abby said in her ear.

Ziva stiffened and went to pull aback, but Abby kept hold of her.

“You should have come to us!” Abby remonstrated gently but firmly. “We would have helped you! Well, obviously not helped you provide information illegally but you know – helped you!”

Ziva couldn’t say anything; what could she say to defend herself?

“And,” Abby continued, “I’m sorry you lost someone you…you loved. Even though I’m obviously happy Tony didn’t die.”

Abby let her go enough to take a step back, hold her shoulders and take a good look at Ziva. “I expect an email a day.”

Ziva nodded, the lump in her throat preventing her from speaking.

McGee took a step forward and Abby stepped back, allowing him to take her place. McGee’s hug was tentative and awkward but Ziva appreciated the gesture.

“You’ll be missed,” McGee said. He didn’t say anything else but she could sense his disappointment in her.

She held McGee’s hand when he pulled away. “I am sorry.”

McGee squeezed her fingers. “I’m not the one who deserves the apology, Ziva.”

Ziva felt her cheeks heat at the gentle admonishment, but she nodded.

Jimmy walked up next. His gentle hug was swift but she heard the sincerity in his voice as he wished her well.

“Oh! We got you something!” Abby said, rushing to pluck something off the computer desk behind her. “Here.”

Ziva took the offered photo hesitantly. Her heart almost broke at the sight of the picture. It was one of them all the week the team had been reunited. They’d gone out for a pizza and beers, and Tony had charmed the waitress into taking the picture despite Gibbs grumbling and both she and McGee protesting. She held the photo to her body.

“Thank you, Abby.”

“It’s not a lot,” Abby said apologetically. “I mean, if we’d known we were doing this, we would have totally gotten something better but Tony didn’t give us a lot of time to…” she stopped, eyes widening, as though she hadn’t meant to let slip that information but Ziva knew Abby had done it intentionally to tell her who had her back.

Who had always had Ziva’s back.

Ziva turned around and saw Gibbs standing by the door, casually leaning against the wall as though he had nothing better to do.

“Come, Ziva,” Ducky was beside her again.

She walked up to Gibbs, her head held high. She would leave with her pride and her dignity intact. She waited until she drew side by side to Gibbs and stopped. “You were right to choose him.”

Gibbs’ gaze flickered to her, and she didn’t flinch away from the unrelenting searching gaze he subjected to her. He must have found what he was looking for because the ice melted and the blue warmed.

It gave her enough courage to speak one last time to him. “Goodbye, Gibbs.”

“My door’s always open, Ziva.”

Ziva nodded again, not trusting her voice.

Gibbs didn’t stop her as she took one step then another away from him. Ducky escorted her into the elevator and the last thing she saw was Gibbs watching her.

Ducky was silent as the elevator travelled up to ground level. She was grateful for the reprieve. She didn’t know what to say. But as the elevator came to a halt and the doors slid open, she remained in the compartment.

“Why?” She asked.

Ducky didn’t bother to pretend that he didn’t know what she was asking. “Because Tony cares for you, Ziva. Perhaps not in the way you have sometimes wished for or that he has sometimes considered, but in a way that is no less deep or true.”

“I do not know what to do now,” Ziva admitted, clutching the photo a little more tightly to her belly.

“If you take my advice, you will take time. Rest, Ziva and grieve for what you have lost, heal,” Ducky said softly, “and remember; there are people who love you and care about you in this world.” He tapped the back of her photo.

Ziva gave a shaky smile and walked out of the elevator. They made their way out of the building, Ducky’s presence beside her, lessening the unforgiving looks on the faces of the agents she passed by; the security guards at the front desk. It felt like it was only moments before she was outside.

The dark town car parked as close to the doors as it could, was clearly meant for her. Hadar stood off to the side of it and at the sight of her, opened the back door. Her father exited and stood, clearly waiting for her.

Ziva turned and gave Ducky a final hug goodbye. “Tell Tony…” and there were a thousand things that leapt to her mind but she couldn’t give voice to any of them.

Ducky patted her back. “He knows.”

She pulled away and without looking behind her walked away from Ducky, from NCIS. Her father gave a satisfied nod and entered the vehicle. Ziva had nearly put a foot inside to join him when a flash of something on the polished surface of the car made her stop. She focused and made out the blurry image of DiNozzo. She whirled around…

Time seemed to stand still as she looked at him and he looked back at her.

He was tired, pale under his usually tan skin, and clearly in pain with the stiff way he was holding himself, the way he had tucked his arm against his side even in its protective sling. Guards hovered behind him along with Gibbs and Ducky, but it was the sight of the panther beside him which arrested Ziva’s attention and gave truth to the revelation he was a Guide. Ziva wished she’d known…

Her mind flashed through a hundred memories; of standing under the awning of the hotel and eating pizza with him, of him tied up and bloody and beating the man who would have killed them both, of his belief that Gibbs would find them, of a burned out car, of finding Jenny…of the wild look in his eyes as he had lain on the floor of her apartment, hurt and injured…

Ziva raised a hand in silent farewell.

Tony gave one short nod of acknowledgement.

She got in the car. It was time to leave.

-nCIs-

“I didn’t want this,” Tony murmured as the car carrying Ziva disappeared from view.

“I think you’ve done more than anyone could have ever asked of you to ensure the best possible outcome,” Ducky said softly. “The rest is up to Ziva.”

Tony nodded slowly. He only hoped Eli David had had enough of playing with his daughter’s life for a while. “And I thought my old man has issues.” He said the thought aloud, knowing most would take the comment as a joke rather than the truth that his Dad had been neglectful at best; emotionally abusive at worst.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air that sang through his lungs and refreshed his skin. He didn’t see the look of concern exchanged behind his back between Gibbs and Ducky, and echoed in a similar exchange between his guards.

Gibbs moved up beside him and placed a hand on his neck. “Come on, DiNozzo. There’s a futon in Abby’s lab with your name on it.”

“I’m fine.”

It was automatic response and Tony winced at the fact it was an outright lie. He opened his eyes warily and found Gibbs smirking at him.

“Yeah, DiNozzo, you’re swaying on your feet for no reason,” Gibbs commented dryly. He gave Tony a small push with the hand on his neck. “Come on.”

Ducky nodded. “You need rest, Anthony. You’ve had quite the morning.”

“He needs food too,” Borin said, reminding Tony that she’d followed him down when he’d insisted on seeing Ziva’s departure for himself. “He hasn’t eaten since breakfast.”

Tony grimaced, the idea of food turned his stomach. “I’m not really hungry.”

“I’m sure we’ll find something to tempt your palate,” Ducky said firmly. “Perhaps a bowl of chicken noodle soup?”

“I’ll call it in once we get DiNozzo to Abby’s lab, Duck,” Gibbs promised.

Tony grumbled under his breath about the inherent bossiness of Gibbs but caved as he always caved, and mostly because he was incredibly sapped of energy again.

Seeing Gibbs confront Ziva…he’d been half-thrilled at the wrongness of watching it and half-horrified at the sight of the tension between them – so out-of-character for their relationship. He’d called Ducky before he had registered he’d picked up the phone. At least he’d managed to think when he’d called Abby. He hadn’t questioned the urge to help Ziva; he’d just reacted. Her distress had bled from the screen like a neon light. He didn’t regret it. He hoped it had made some kind of difference to her; allowed her some kind of peace.

God but he was tired.

He trudged through the NCIS entrance, mechanically following rote as he went through security. Tony staggered a step coming out of the metal detector.

Within a second, Gibbs had an arm around Tony’s waist and another anchoring Tony’s good arm over Gibbs’ shoulder. It was their go-to position when Tony screwed up his ankle and the familiarity of it washed away Tony’s embarrassment. Their physical contact, as necessary and minimal as it was, also seemed to help with the unrelenting pressure on his shields; pushing the weight of everyone’s emotions back to a more manageable level, as though the Sentinel had inserted himself between Tony and the rest of the world. Tony sank into that feeling with a grateful sigh.

“Sorry, Boss,” he mumbled. He was fading fast; almost asleep on his feet.

“Don’t apologize, DiNozzo,” Gibbs said smartly. “We’re almost there.”

Tony barely heard him. He vaguely registered entering the lab and Abby hurrying over from a clutch of people, a hushed conversation which he figured was about him as they moved further inside, past the doors to Abby’s inner sanctum and office space. He focused on hanging onto Gibbs.

“Futon’s waiting for you, DiNozzo,” Gibbs started to lower him to the floor and the waiting mattress and Tony clutched at Gibbs until they were down. He blinked bemused as Gibbs undid the sling and removed it with care before doing the same with Tony’s suit jacket, and then Tony’s Italian leather shoes.

“You’ll be more comfortable sleeping without them,” Gibbs said. “Lie back.” He helped brace Tony as he helped manoeuvre Tony into a horizontal position.

“Are you staying?” asked Tony, his voice thick with fatigue, his eyes already closed.

“I’m staying,” Gibbs stated, his voice close and brusquely reassuring.

“‘S’good,” Tony mumbled, pushing his face into a pillow someone had conjured from somewhere. He didn’t hear Gibbs’ answer – he was already asleep.

-nCIs-

Gibbs eased back from Tony’s slumbering form and almost snatched the blanket out of McGee’s hands as he went to place it over Tony. He did the honours himself instead, being very careful not to disturb Tony at all as he ensured that Tony was completely covered and in no danger of getting cold lying so close to the floor. It was the urge to stroke a hand through Tony’s hair that had him almost stumbling such was his haste to stand up.

His shoulders went back as he registered the audience behind him; a wide-eyed Abby, a frowning McGee and a concerned Ducky. Hovering behind them was Borin, Reyes and Connor. Behind them was Yates’ team who’d been in the lab getting an update when Gibbs had walked in with Tony. He glowered at Carrington’s concerned expression; the Sentinel had no right to feel anything about Tony.

“Don’t you have a case?” barked Gibbs.

“We do,” Cassie placed a hand on Carrington’s arm and tugged him back to Abby’s lab.

Abby shot Gibbs a look but went with them and Gibbs heard her start to explain the evidence again without her usual excited tone. He knew from past experience that most of the tests would take more time to work through but Abby was able to summarise what forensics they had and what they might provide quickly enough at the start of an investigation that it sometimes gave them a lead, or pointed them in the right direction. From the snippets that drifted into the office, Abby had found nothing except to substantiate that it had been a violent death.

McGee cleared his throat. “Tony…he’s going to be alright, isn’t he?”

“He’ll be fine, Timothy,” Ducky reassured McGee briskly. “It has been less than twenty-four hours since he sustained his injuries and regained conscious control of his empathy. A nap is just what he needs. Jethro,” he continued, grabbing Gibbs’ attention, “perhaps Timothy can secure some sustenance for us all but especially for Anthony?”

McGee brightened. “I’d be happy to, Boss.”

Gibbs reached into his inner pocket, grabbed his wallet and tossed it to McGee. “Get enough for everyone, McGee.”

Ducky gestured at McGee. “I believe the health food shop, our dear Caitlin preferred would be best, Timothy. Some light nutritious soup and sandwiches. No pizza.”

“Not those tofu wraps,” Gibbs said immediately. Those things had been awful.

McGee’s disgusted face revealed his own opinion as though he’d spoken aloud. They needed to work on that with him, Gibbs mused. McGee had come along way but he still had a tendency to telegraph everything he thought.

“Agent Borin?” McGee asked tentatively.

“Nothing for me; thanks, McGee. I need to get back to the Registry and finish up the reports,” Borin said. “I’ll come back this afternoon to talk about DiNozzo’s protection detail.”

“Does he need it anymore?” McGee asked bluntly. “I mean, he was only being protected because everyone thought Mossad or Ziva might try a retaliation, but that’s no longer the case is it?”

“McGee has a point, Borin,” Gibbs said, inwardly kicking himself for not making the leap of logic himself. The sooner the Registry agents left the better; everything could get back to normal. Sure, he’d have to convince Vance about Tony being in the field but he could do that.

Borin shook her head. “DiNozzo’s still a rare high level unbonded Guide. Reyes and Connor will remain here in the meantime.”

Gibbs glanced dismissively at the two Registry agents. So far they hadn’t impressed him. “They can stay on the other side of the doors. There’s no way in and out. I’ll stay down here.” He remembered Tony’s almost-request before he’d fallen asleep and felt compelled to honour it.

Reyes arched an eyebrow. “Connor will remain on the lab door. I’ll go with Agent McGee and get us some lunch.”

Borin nodded her agreement.

Gibbs didn’t care as long as they weren’t in the room with him and DiNozzo. He gestured at the computer. “McGee, set that up for me before you leave. I’ll work down here.”

“Right, Boss,” McGee leapt away from the door he’d been inching towards and hurried to the computer.

Reyes and Connor left and Gibbs relaxed minutely without their presence.

“Borin, you know we’re his team; we can protect him,” Gibbs argued again. He didn’t like the idea of Tony constantly being surrounded and he knew Tony would start chafing against the restrictions.

She shrugged. “I’ll discuss it with Morrow, Gibbs, but don’t be surprised when I come back if the answer is no.” She bit her lip and hesitated, clearly thinking of saying something else. Her eyes snapped briefly to Ducky who gave an almost imperceptible head-shake. She took the ME’s opinion on board because whatever it was she’d been thinking of saying, she evidently decided against it, shrugging again before taking her leave.

Gibbs stooped to check Tony had slept through the conversation and frowned at the small white lines of pain bracketing his mouth and eyes. “He’s in pain, Ducky.”

“I can’t give him anything, Jethro,” Ducky informed him quietly, “it could interfere with the control he has of his shield.” The ME looked at Gibbs seriously. “What he needs is to be fully bonded to a Sentinel.”

“That’s bullshit,” Gibbs retorted, keeping his voice low but fierce. He stood up and moved away towards the desk.

“In most cases it is,” Ducky agreed. “But Anthony is not the same as most Guides, Jethro.” He shifted, gesturing towards Tony with both hands. “Most Guides have nothing more than a well-developed and higher than average empathy for others. It enables them to sense a Sentinel’s needs.”

“I know that, Duck,” Gibbs said tightly, although he’d never truly been interested in the minutiae of the Guide side of things. He’d found Shannon relatively quickly, and once she’d died he’d had no interest in Guides.

“Yes, well, you also know then that most Guides do not maintain shields the same way Anthony does; they have no need to do so. They don’t actually feel anyone else’s emotions and do not have the ability to project emotions on others. Only high level Guides maintain shields,” Ducky lectured. “Anthony is probably the highest level Guide there is.”

“What about Doctor Sandburg?” inquired McGee, his bright eyes shining with curiosity.

“Well, Doctor Sandburg is another rarity; a Shaman. His focus is on knowledge and the spirituality of Sentinel-Guide life. In Normal terms, he ranks as the Pope does to Catholics; he is the spiritual leader,” Ducky said, clearly relishing his role as subject matter expert. “Although to some more than others.”

Gibbs ignored the pointed look.

“No, Anthony is not a Shaman but the scale of Anthony’s empathy is off the charts. He picked up an empathic trace on the body down in autopsy. The reason he’s so tired is the strain of actively maintaining that shield of his now he’s having to consciously control it. He will need the protection of a Sentinel to help him in that,” Ducky finished.

“Why?” McGee asked, frowning.

Ducky responded enthusiastically. “His Sentinel will come first. His empathy will naturally be directed towards his Sentinel, allowing him to ignore the rest of the world beyond unless he actively seeks it out.”

Gibbs stepped into McGee’s eye-line. “You done yet?”

McGee froze and then hurriedly nodded. “You’re all set, Boss. Just log in as usual and your desktop will appear here along with your applications and…” He trailed off at Gibbs’ hard glare. He picked up the wallet he’d placed to the side of the keyboard. “I’ll get going then.”

With McGee gone, Gibbs took the empty chair and started to input his password.

Ducky cleared his throat and waited until he had Gibbs’ full attention. “DiNozzo’s Sentinel will come first with him, Jethro. You need to be prepared for that.”

Gibbs sighed heavily, dropping his gaze back to the computer monitor. He really didn’t want to think about it.

“Have you considered offering to be his Sentinel, Jethro?” Ducky’s blunt question had his head snapping up.

Gibbs shot an anxious look towards Tony but his eyes and ears confirmed that Tony was still heavily asleep. He sent a furious look towards Ducky but the older man was all but immune to his glares and Ducky did nothing but stare pointedly back at him.

“I had a Guide, Ducky,” Gibbs forced himself to say the words; it was harder confiding in Ducky than it had been sharing the information with Tony. “Shannon.”

Ducky’s expression immediately changed to one of chagrin. “Ah, well that would explain your aversion to bonding with another Guide, even Anthony.” He murmured. “It’s a pity.” He commented. “I believe you’d be as wonderful a team as Sentinel and Guide as you are as partners in the field.”

“Don’t you have an autopsy report to get back to, Duck?” asked Gibbs a little desperately.

“Hmmm,” Ducky accepted the dismissal and made for the door. “One last thing, Jethro…”

Gibbs unwillingly looked over at him.

“If you have no intention of being Anthony’s Sentinel then you might want to consider losing some of the possessive behaviour you’ve been displaying since you were informed he was a Guide.”

His parting shot was on target and hit Gibbs hard.

Gibbs stared blindly at the screen. He knew Ducky was right on all counts.

He and Tony had clicked from the get-go in Baltimore. It was one of the reasons why he’d dragged Tony to NCIS. He didn’t waste good and Tony was good; together they were better. They’d had eighteen months working essentially just the two of them, agents drifting in and out – Vivian Blackadder being the longest serving. Tony provided experience of a street cop alongside his outstanding investigative skills; Gibbs provided experience of the military alongside outstanding strategic and tactical skills. The combination proved to be more than the sum of their parts.

Oh, they’d added to the team beyond the additional pairs of hands the various Directors had forced on them. Kate had been Gibbs’ choice; experienced with protection and profiling with solid research and analysis skills. She’d slotted in nicely; providing more than just a female viewpoint that both he and Tony lacked. McGee had been Tony’s choice; experienced with technology in a way that was becoming more and more necessary, a good team player, but no real investigative skills to speak of beyond his training. Tony had argued that they could train him.

“You want him; you train him, DiNozzo.”

“Really, Boss?” Tony had been gleeful. “My very own Probie?”

“Just remember what I told you about the superglue.”

Gibbs figured McGee still hadn’t worked it out that he owed Tony his place on the team. Ziva, on the other hand…she had been Jenny’s choice and Gibbs just hadn’t argued, believing he owed Ziva for Ari. Ziva’s espionage and intelligence experience had added something to the team although her lack of investigative skills had meant that they’d effectively taken on a second Probie – and despite helping more than he had with McGee, he’d let Tony take the lead there too.

But regardless of what the others had added to their team, if Gibbs was honest, he’d prefer to have the two man team they’d been.

His gaze flickered to Tony.

Tony did need a Sentinel.

And protection.

But Gibbs wasn’t the Sentinel for the job, regardless that he’d been acting like he had the job already.

It was hard, Gibbs mused. Just knowing Tony was a Guide roused all his Sentinel instincts to protect him. And the fact that Gibbs already considered Tony his agent, already was possessive about Tony on a professional level, it added a layer of complexity to an already complicated situation.

Well, Ducky was right, Gibbs thought harshly. He was going to have to get over himself and give DiNozzo room to find a Sentinel. And Tony deserved to find a Sentinel who’d be more to him that simply another type of partnership – the usual outcome in a Sentinel and Guide pairing. Gibbs had paid attention enough to know that the bonded pairings were usually compared to law enforcement partnerships; unique and intimate in a way that potentially their romantic partners would struggle to understand and accept.

Gibbs knew he’d been incredibly lucky to find a compatible Guide with Shannon; that theirs had been a true love story. Tony didn’t deserve anything less; he deserved to find a Sentinel to love and bond with.

Gibbs tried hard to ignore how that unsettled his gut. He wanted Tony to be happy.

Enough, Gibbs thought gruffly. DiNozzo and the matter of his Sentinel could wait for a couple of hours. Gibbs had reports to write, Ziva’s termination to file (and he was going to miss her for all she’d proven she couldn’t be trusted inside NCIS while she was Mossad), and work that had been delayed shepherding the Israelis through the evidence review that morning.

But he couldn’t help casting one last look at Tony’s sleeping face, bitter regret whispering at the edges of his mind.

-nCIs-

Gibbs looked up as Borin crossed Abby’s lab and came to hover at the doorway to the office.

She glanced towards Tony’s sleeping form. “He’s still asleep?”

He slipped off the glasses he’d been using and nodded, appreciating that she’d modulated her voice to a lower tone. Tony had slept through lunch and well into the afternoon. He figured the younger man had to have been exhausted by everything to sleep so deeply.

She gestured with a flick of her head to the outer lab and Gibbs tried hard to swallow down on the resentment generated by the request. He rose from Abby’s desk and marched out. He closed the lab door, sealing Tony into the office, safe and sound from any disturbance.

“What?”

Borin stuck her hands in the pockets of her trench coat. “We need to talk about DiNozzo and what happens now.”

“So let’s talk,” Gibbs said simply, shoulders going back in an unconscious readiness to fight.

“Your Director is waiting on us in his office along with the Registry Lead Guide,” Borin said.

Gibbs wanted to argue that it had nothing to do with Vance but he knew that as much as he didn’t want Vance making the decisions, some of it was down to the Director’s discretion.

He repressed the urge to sigh and motioned for Borin to lead the way. He turned to Abby who was unashamedly listening in and signalled to her in ASL to watch DiNozzo and feed him when he woke up. She signed back her agreement and grinned at him.

Gibbs marched out of the lab, closing the door firmly behind him. His gaze swept over a new Sentinel in discussion with Reyes and Connor – it was a handover, he realised. He grimaced. He’d rather have stuck with Reyes and Connor for all they’d been useless earlier that day in autopsy.

“Riley’s OK, Gibbs,” Borin said as they entered the elevator. “He’s one of our best. Morrow wanted him to be assigned yesterday but he’s just come back from a difficult protection detail and needed to clear medical for field duty.” She paused. “Morrow wants him to stay with DiNozzo twenty-four seven.”

He stopped the elevator.

“Riley – he’s unbonded?” Gibbs growled, understanding the implication of the constant hours.

“Unbonded,” Borin confirmed.

Gibbs bristled. “DiNozzo’s not going to agree to being followed around twenty four seven.”

Borin sighed, softening her stance. “Look, no-one wants to go the protective custody route, Gibbs, but DiNozzo’s status has changed. He is a rare Guide, both in genetics and in ability. It’s going to make him a target for people wanting to understand why he has his gift, for people who’d want him to use it to their advantage, and for Sentinels who want to bond with such a strong Guide.” She held his gaze. “And you know that already.”

“I agree he needs protection,” Gibbs acknowledged. “I just think assigning someone to be with him twenty four seven is going about it all wrong.”

Tony was going to chafe against all the restrictions and if it got too bad, he’d run. Gibbs knew that like he knew the back of his own hand.

“Riley’s a good fit; he has clearance and training to be with Tony at NCIS, they share a lot of interests in common,” Borin said quietly. “I think Morrow’s hoping that they click.”

And by click, Borin meant bond. Gibbs felt his inner Sentinel growling again at the idea of Tony bonding. His eyes narrowed on her as a sudden thought struck him.

“Morrow wants Riley. You have something else in mind?” Gibbs asked brusquely.

“Do you?” Borin asked pointedly.

He was reminded of the brief look exchanged between Borin and Ducky earlier that day. It looked like Borin’s plan B was Gibbs. Well, he’d already concluded that he couldn’t be DiNozzo’s Sentinel so she was all out of luck…or was she?

Riley was unbonded. They were effectively arguing that Tony spend his time with an unbonded Sentinel who he didn’t know so Tony was protected. Surely it was better if they were going to use someone to use someone Tony knew and got along with? And they couldn’t argue the unbonded thing was an issue because they’d already suggested Riley…

Could Gibbs do it? Could he provide protection for DiNozzo? It wasn’t even a question. Gibbs knew he’d already do anything to protect Tony – any member of his team.

But if he stepped in, would he be able to step aside when Tony found a Sentinel. One step at a time, Gibbs decided. Get Tony protected and worry about the bonding and Sentinel stuff later.

He hit the switch to start the elevator again. He marched out of the elevator and down the corridor to Vance’s office. He barely spared the secretary a glance as he marched through to Vance’s inner sanctum without knocking.

Vance’s head snapped around to him as soon as he entered the office. The Director sat behind his desk, relaxed back in the leather chair. His dark eyes gleamed with resigned amusement. “Please join us, Agent Gibbs.” He said dryly. He waved at the mature woman with short spiky silver hair in front of him. “This is Doctor Margaret Henshaw, the Lead Guide from the Registry.”

Henshaw rose and Gibbs shook her hand as he took in her diminutive height – barely five foot even in the killer red stiletto heels – and the roundness of her figure. She was matronly, carrying a little more weight than her height could support but not overly so. She dressed well; a sharp suit that made the most of her figure. Her expression was one of no-nonsense business and Gibbs appreciate that.

“Doctor,” Gibbs greeted her with a simple nod, hiding his discomfort as best he could. His avoidance of Guides had meant he’d never met her before and he was only too aware that while her gift wasn’t as strong as Tony’s, she could probably read him just as easily.

“Sentinel Gibbs,” Henshaw replied. Her British accent was sharp and crisp; the type they described as cut-glass, Gibbs determined, without any of Ducky’s warming softness.

Vance then gestured to Delores Bromstead, the stern NCIS HR Manager for the Washington Office. “You know Ms. Bromstead.”

“Ms. Bromstead,” Gibbs said briefly.

As far as he knew the woman had never given permission for any of her co-workers to call her Delores. Her undistinguishing light brown hair fell forward to hide her face, a badly cut suit which did nothing to flatter her figure. She was known to be a curmudgeon. Gibbs had rarely come up against her but the times he had meant he treated her with respect.

“We’re here to discuss Agent DiNozzo’s future,” Vance said.

Borin had closed the door behind her and she came to stand beside Gibbs in front of Vance’s desk. Vance waved them all into chairs. Gibbs took one grudgingly but unwilling to argue such a minor point when he knew there was a more major one to be won.

“Firstly, let me tackle the question of Agent DiNozzo’s employment,” Vance leaned forward and tapped the file on his desk. “He lied on his application which is grounds for immediate dismissal.”

“He didn’t lie, Director,” Gibbs replied immediately, startled by Vance’s opening gambit. He had expected opposition to DiNozzo going into the field not an offensive strike to remove him from NCIS. “He stated he was registered with the Registry and that he wasn’t paired.”

“He omitted stating he was a Guide,” Vance shot back immediately.

“Not his fault we don’t demand specifics or that HR never followed up on the detail,” Gibbs pointed out.

Bromstead cleared her throat. “Agent Gibbs is correct. Our application form does not require a candidate to give specifics and our HR check only confirms they are registered; it does not ask what they are registered as.” She looked sourly at Vance. “Legally, we are not allowed to check in detail as all Guide identities are protected.”

Vance sat back. “So you’re saying we rely on the Guides being honest and fully disclosing their status.” He looked pointedly at Gibbs. “Which brings us back to DiNozzo lying.”

“Actually it’s my understanding that Agent DiNozzo believed he could not be a Guide at the point he joined your agency, Director,” Henshaw cut in. “He’d been informed by Registry medical staff that, genetics aside, he was Normal.”

“Semantics,” Vance pointed out.

“Sometimes semantics are important,” Henshaw said. “You say Agent DiNozzo lied; I say he wasn’t considered an active Guide and had no reason to declare himself as such – just like any latent Guide of whom you employ a number without issue as field agents. He did all that he was required by law: he confirmed he was registered.” Her icy blue eyes met Vance’s challengingly. “I’ll be happy to testify at an employment tribunal to the same.”

Gibbs was starting to like her.

Vance glanced toward Bromstead.

“I believe a tribunal would rule in Agent DiNozzo’s favour on this point, Director,” Bromstead confirmed. “With that in mind, I also believe that the agency has complied with the Guide Protection Act; as Agent DiNozzo was not considered to be an active Guide by the Registry, NCIS was under no obligation to follow our protocols for Guides in Agent DiNozzo’s case.”

“Until now,” Vance said. He gave a huff and conceded the issue. “Good; DiNozzo stays with the agency.”

Gibbs belatedly realised that Vance hadn’t seriously considered firing DiNozzo; he’d been covering NCIS’ ass on the legalities. It was beyond irritating but he guessed Vance was only doing his job as Director.

“Now that his status has changed,” Bromstead stated firmly, “he is subject to all NCIS protocols involving Guides, specifically those pertaining to unbonded active Guides.”

Here we go, thought Gibbs furiously.

“Specifically?” questioned Vance.

“Specifically his approved field status is withdrawn,” Bromstead said promptly. “Since he has no registered Bond pairing with a Sentinel, he should be immediately reassigned from the MCRT or we will not be fully compliant with our protocols.”

“He’s a field agent,” Gibbs argued, “an exceptional one at that.”

“And frankly I find your protocols offensive and behind the times,” Henshaw added in a clipped angry tone.

Bromstead glared at her. “We’re fully compliant with civilian and military law which is very specific on Guides in frontline activities and…”

“And you have your backsides covered for all eventualities,” Henshaw said with a sniff. “Yes, I can see that.”

Gibbs changed his mind; he really liked Henshaw.

Vance held up his hand. “I’m not arguing for the current protocols, Doctor Henshaw. I freely admit that having read them cover to cover this morning with Agent DiNozzo’s circumstances in mind, I can acknowledge that they need a review.” He sighed. “But they are our current protocols.”

Henshaw regarded him thoughtfully. “The Registry would be glad to provide input into your review.” She changed position subtly. “Our society has come a long way in the last ten years to acknowledge Guide rights and equality but there are areas such as law enforcement and military service which remain culturally biased and unfair in their treatment of Guides. I don’t completely dismiss concerns regarding Guide protection in these arenas – our Guide numbers are small and any Guide who can assist and support a Sentinel is to be protected from unnecessary harm – but as a wise man once said those who would surrender freedom for security deserve neither, and I’m certain that those who surrender the freedom of others for their own security especially deserve neither.”

It was a sobering thought, Gibbs mused, and one that Henshaw had made well.

“The question is what to do with DiNozzo while the review takes place,” Vance commented.

Bromstead squirmed in her chair. “I suppose adjusting his status to a member of the MCRT on mandatory desk duty would meet our current protocols.”

“It’s a demotion,” Gibbs said angrily. “He can’t perform as a Senior Field Agent stuck behind a desk.”

“We can waive a change in level and salary during this period,” Bromstead offered sourly.

Henshaw arched one elegantly shaped eyebrow. “Not good enough, Ms. Bromstead, and something I feel is a little pointless.”

“You have another compromise in mind?” Vance asked. “One involving the agent you brought with you? Riley?”

“We did have a compromise of sending Agent DiNozzo into the field partnered with Agent Riley for all it would be an unbonded partnership to propose,” Henshaw confirmed, “but actually I think our assumption of Agent, or in this situation, Guide DiNozzo being unbonded may not be correct.”

“What?” demanded Gibbs, his emotions surging at the idea; confusion accompanied by disappointment and jealousy and disbelief and…

Vance had also stilled; his body motionless. “Explain.”

Henshaw ignored Gibbs in favour of holding Vance’s eyes. “Guide DiNozzo has been in the presence of Sentinels daily.” She said simply. “While he may have operated as a Normal, genetically he is a Guide. Any unbonded Sentinels working with him will have intuitively grounded their senses upon him.” She gave a shrug. “It perhaps accounts for Sentinel David’s conflicted emotions concerning her lover and Guide DiNozzo. On some level, I believe David’s Sentinel side recognised DiNozzo was a Guide and reached for him to ground her…but her inability to see his true self on an intellectual level resulted in mixed feelings which may have contributed to her overall attitude towards him.”

Gibbs swallowed hard. “You think DiNozzo and Ziva are bonded somehow?”

“No,” Henshaw turned to look at Gibbs fully, “I think you and Guide DiNozzo are bonded.”

Gibbs’ heart about stopped. He sprang to his feet. “I am not bonded to DiNozzo!” His emotions surged wildly but settled into anger.

Henshaw didn’t flinch from his fury. “Agent Borin’s observations and my own would suggest otherwise.”

Gibbs rounded on Borin. “What the hell have you said?”

Borin stood up and faced him without hesitation. “I reported how you are with DiNozzo, Gibbs.” She listed them off on her fingers. “Protective, possessive, caring. You don’t want other Sentinels near him – you don’t want anyone near him. You almost growled at McGee for daring to attempt to cover DiNozzo with a blanket!”

“I’ve been looking after him because he’s my agent and he almost died last night doing his job!” Gibbs said defensively.

“It’s not just you, Gibbs,” Borin countered. “He follows you without question, and he takes care of you without you even noticing.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Gibbs asked genuinely bewildered.

“Coffee this morning? Easing you off an emotional cliff with just a touch when you found out about Ziva’s past loyalty test?” Borin listed bluntly.

“We’ve worked together for eight years!” Gibbs snapped. “He knows I like coffee! Hell, the whole office here knows I like coffee! That’s hardly news!”

“I’ve got to agree with Agent Gibbs,” Vance said, sitting up and staring at Gibbs.

Henshaw pursed her lips. “Tell me, Agent Gibbs, in the time you’ve worked with Agent DiNozzo, how many times have you spiked your senses or zoned?”

Gibbs thought frantically through the last eight years. There had to be some instances of…

“Three times.” Gibbs replied, but his heart was sinking because he knew all instances had been when Tony had been afloat.

He could see Vance making the connection and he couldn’t say it was a coincidence because he knew it wasn’t.

“Son of a gun,” Vance swore lightly.

“We are not bonded!” Gibbs repeated firmly, if a little desperately. “You can’t bond with someone you haven’t physically bonded with!”

Bonding didn’t have to be sexual but it was intimate and physical. There was no way that he and Tony had ever done anything like that for them to have bonded. No way.

Henshaw raised her eyebrows at him. “Was there any physical contact between you at all when you met?”

Gibbs glowered at her. “He thought I was a bad guy. He tackled me, I punched him, and he pulled a gun on me.” The memory flickered through him in sensory snapshots; Tony’s weight hitting him and on top of him. The spark when his fist had hit Tony’s skin. The speed of the gun coming to bear on him. The sound of Tony’s voice warning him.

Vance stared at him. “And then you hired him?”

Borin started to chuckle.

“He was good. You don’t waste good,” Gibbs said defensively.

Henshaw gestured, pulling their attention back to her. “Has there been any sustained physical contact since?”

“No! Of course not,” Gibbs denied automatically.

“What about the head-slaps?!” Borin said suddenly. “You barely go a day without giving him one.”

Gibbs froze.

“An intense moment of physical connection on meeting and sustained physical contact over a period of years?” Henshaw’s blue eyes were sharp and scouring as they met Gibbs’. “I’ll concede you’re not fully bonded, Agent Gibbs, but what has been described is enough for a nascent bond.”

It was all beginning to make a horrible kind of sense.

His instant connection with DiNozzo and the urge to drag him to NCIS; the terror he’d felt every time Tony had gone missing…

he’d curled up in Tony’s arms when Ari had shot Gibbs down in autopsy…

he’d ached so much in Mexico and he was only beginning to understand it was his Sentinel grieving the absence of Tony as much as the bonded Guide and daughter he’d lost…

and he’d been devastated when Tony’s car had blown up…

had given Tony such a hard time over the whole thing with Jeanne because his inner Sentinel had felt betrayed even though he had understood as an agent Tony had been following orders…

God damn it. He’d been such a mess when Tony was afloat.

No.

Just…no.

He and Tony were not bonded.

“This is a complete waste of time!” He snarled.

Henshaw smiled. “On the contrary, I rather think we’re just getting to the point.”

Gibbs glowered. He changed his mind. He didn’t like Henshaw at all.

-nCIs-

Tony went from asleep to wide awake within a breath. He bolted up from the mattress, all senses on alert and winced as pain shot up his injured arm.

What had disturbed him?

A throat being cleared, drew his attention. He blinked sleepily at Abby.

“Sorry, Tony,” Abby said contritely, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“‘S’OK,” Tony self-consciously ran his good hand down his shirt and found it askew, half in and out of his pants. He gave a small sheepish smile to the dark haired Goth who grinned back at him.

“You should be thankful the Bossman decided to stop after he took off your jacket,” Abby quipped.

Said jacket was neatly folded on the counter, Tony noted absently, along with his sling. His shoes were lined up in orderly fashion at the bottom of the futon. He shoved his feet back into them as Abby made for her desk and picked up a folder.

“Where is everyone?” asked Tony. He was certain there had been more people with him when he’d dropped. And he really had to stop doing that.

“Working,” Abby smiled, softening the blunt fact. “McGee went back up to the bullpen to do his report. Duckman got called out with Balboa’s team. Our silver-haired fox was here,” she wandered back through to the lab and Tony followed her, “but Borin just came back and they went up to Vance’s office a few minutes ago.” She paused. “They went to talk about your future.”

“Shouldn’t I be there for that?” grumbled Tony. Great, he thought, the fact that he was a Guide was already starting to cut him out of a loop. He glanced toward the exit, contemplating charging up to Vance’s office, and realised belatedly that the lab door was closed. It was hardly ever closed. Tony looked at her gratefully.

She shrugged. “You know Gibbs isn’t going to let anything happen to you, Tony.”

“I know,” Tony said – and he really did because he could remember the determination he’d felt from Gibbs when he’d reassured him at the hospital, “it’s just…it’s my life; I should get a say, shouldn’t I?”

Abby grimaced sympathetically. “You know I’m big on Guide rights, right, Tony?”

He nodded, confused at where she was going.

“But you have to let Gibbs handle this one, Tony,” Abby argued passionately. “He’ll fix it.”

“I’m not sure that he can,” Tony murmured. “The regs are pretty clear that I need to be bonded to be in the field.”

Abby turned to look at him seriously. “So you get bonded.”

“Not that easy,” Tony pointed out. Bonding with someone was a lot like getting married or finding the perfect cop partnership. Sure, he’d lucked out on the latter with Gibbs but the former…he’d never had much luck.

“The solution might be right in front of your face,” Abby said, a strange and unusual hesitancy in her tone.

He looked at her sharply.

“You’re unbonded. Gibbs is unbonded. You’re a Guide. He’s a Sentinel,” Abby said, spelling it out.

Tony’s eyes widened in shock. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Oh come on!” A teasing lilt re-entered her tone and her eyes brightened with mischief. “You have to have at least thought about it!”

More than he was going to admit to Abby, Tony determined.

“Gibbs doesn’t want to be bonded to a Guide, Abs, and he has a very good reason,” Tony said in a clear authoritative way that would have surprised most people. “I’m not going to…I’m not going to ask him to bond with me just so I can keep my job.”

She opened her mouth to argue but closed it again as she read the stubbornness in his eyes. She deflated a little. “It’s just…you’re already so in sync and he’s…” she gestured back at her office, “you didn’t see how he was with you, Tony. He was like really protective.”

Tony felt warmed at that snippet of info. But before his own hopes could rise, he ruthlessly stamped down on them. “He’s always protective about his team, Abs. He’d be the same if it was you; you know that. However he was – it has nothing to do with his feelings for me personally.”

Her shoulders slumped again but he read the agreement in her eyes and ignored the twinge of disappointment that she wasn’t going to argue with him; that he was right and Gibbs had just been being Gibbs.

His stomach rumbled loudly, breaking the silence.

Abby pivoted and walked over to the table. She picked up a brown bag which she tossed to him. “For you. Bossman said to feed you when you woke up.”

Tony’s stomach rumbled again at the faint scent of food and he dived into the bag eagerly. Freshly cut bagels with thin slices of roast beef and pickles, a smear of tangy mustard coating the meat, had his mouth watering. He almost gagged he put so much of one in his mouth. He chewed hurriedly and swallowed appreciatively.

Abby shook her head, amusement all over her face, and slid onto her usual stool. She started to click through fingerprint images, uploading them into the programme that would attempt to find a match.

“Yates’ case?” asked Tony, reading the case file number over her shoulder.

She sent him an admonishing look but nodded. “Fingerprints from the back door of the club. It’s a long shot but there’s no forensics on the vic so…”

“No forensics?” questioned Tony, the fact snagging his interest.

“Nothing useful,” Abby said disgruntled. “I mean, there was all this crap from the alley but nothing from the killer.”

That was weird, Tony mused. A back-alley killing usually meant spur-of-the-moment violence or sometimes premeditated but out of control rage. Neither situation lent itself to no evidence from the perpetrator. Something usually got left behind – a hair, skin under the fingernails, a footprint, cologne rubbed off onto skin…something. A clean crime scene meant one of two things – possibly both…

“So our killer has some knowledge of forensics. Cleaned up the victim after attacking him. The alley was the dumping ground,” Tony suggested. “The primary crime scene’s somewhere else.”

Abby’s eyes brightened. “Cassie said the same thing when I told her.”

“Well, she’s good,” Tony remarked with a smile that acknowledged the reminder that it wasn’t his case.

“She is,” Abby said amused, continuing to work.

Tony concentrated on eating his bagel.

“Ziva will be OK, won’t she?” Abby asked suddenly.

Tony paused the bagel half-way to his mouth and lowered it again. Abby’s anxious eyes stared back at him.

“I don’t know, Abs,” Tony said, his own heart aching a little at the admission. He suspected Ziva’s father was going to push for another show of loyalty from his daughter and he didn’t need to be an empath to know Ziva wasn’t in a good place to deal with that. He only hoped that Ziva had enough sense not to accept a suicide mission. He attempted a reassuring smile. “I think she’s got a lot of healing to do. She’s lost a lot in the last twenty-four hours.”

Guilt bubbled up again but he ignored it. Tony had heard enough from Eli David to know he’d done the right thing staying on Rivkin, suspecting Ziva of torn loyalties. Perhaps he’d gone about confronting Ziva badly – maybe he should have handed that off to Gibbs from the get-go – but he’d been right. It was bittersweet solace.

“I’m going to miss her,” Abby said, clicking on something with an air of finality; when Tony checked she’d set the programme to run.

Tony nodded. “Me too.”

Abby suddenly moved and Tony had to react fast to save his remaining bagel from getting crushed between them as she hugged him tightly before springing back a horrified look on her face.

“Oh my God!” Abby babbled. “I forgot! I’m so sorry, Tony!”

Tony tweaked her pigtail. “You always have a green light, Abby.”

Abby grinned at him, the shared memory of the harassment seminar hanging between them like it was on a video screen they could both see.

“Really?” drawled Abby, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Sure,” Tony said with a corresponding flirtatious smirk, “just don’t tell Gibbs. I don’t want him to come after me with a shotgun.”

And for a moment it was as though the years had rolled back, and it was the year Tony had joined – after Abby had gotten over Stan Burley’s exit and in-between agents – when it had just been the two of them, bantering and teasing each other. Well before Ziva. Or McGee. Or Kate…

Tony’s smile faded. God, he missed Kate.

“Me too.”

Abby’s quiet words made him realise he’d spoken aloud again.

He had to stop doing that.

She hopped off her stool. “Got to go to the evidence locker. You stay here and try not to steal Cassie’s case.”

Tony plastered on his most innocent look, grateful for Abby being Abby and normal – well, Abby-normal. He stuffed as much bagel in his mouth as he could manage and waved at her as she opened the lab door and –

Screamed!

Tony was on his feet, immediately dropping the bagel. His good hand reached under the table and yanked the knife duct-taped from its hiding place, while a part of him regretted that his back-up gun was in desk drawer – his service weapon having been taken in as evidence the night before. It felt like a long moment before he was out of the lab, tucking Abby behind him and pointing a knife at the unknown red-haired male Sentinel just outside the door.

The Sentinel froze and held up both hands. “Woah, easy! I’m Liam Riley from the Registry. I replaced Connor.” He explained quickly.

“Maybe you should show me some ID,” Tony said evenly.

His shields weren’t all the way up and he could sense Riley was highly interested in him; fascinated by Tony’s status. He also sensed Abby’s nervousness, fright at being startled at Riley being there fading away. The fact that she was sensible and stayed back, not arguing with Tony over his actions, told him everything he needed to know about her state of mind.

Riley nodded. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to alarm you or Miss Scuito,” he gestured vaguely to Abby.

Tony smiled tightly at the apology; it would mean more if Riley got the hint and showed some goddamn ID.

Riley carefully withdrew a black leather folder from the depths of his back jeans’ pocket.

“Why the change over?” Tony asked, examining Riley’s outstretched ID. He checked it over carefully before he nodded his approval and lowered the knife.

“Situation has changed,” Riley said succinctly, his eyes tracking the knife. “Israelis are considered neutralised?”

Tony nodded cautiously.

“So, the main priority now is general protection,” Riley stated, “until you’ve found a Sentinel to bond with.”

Bonding. If he couldn’t convince Vance that he was fine going into the field as an unbonded Guide, (and he wasn’t stupid enough to think that the fact that he’d been doing it essentially for years was going to convince Vance), he was actually going to have to consider bonding.

It irritated Tony deep down. He didn’t need a Sentinel. He could take care of himself. He’d been doing it for years. And he definitely didn’t want to bond with someone who only wanted him because of the whole empathy thing; because they wanted the kudos of landing a rare Guide. He ignored the voice in his head that sounded like Abby jumping up and down and yelling ‘Gibbs! Gibbs! Gibbs!’ as the solution – Gibbs wasn’t an option and Tony knew that; had accepted it.

Well, that was just depressing.

Tony sighed and handed the ID back. “Why you and not Reyes or Connor?”

“The Director wanted to assign someone who can stay with you a while,” Riley said. His blue eyes gleamed with a hint of a smirk. “He seems to think we’ll have a lot in common since we’re both movie buffs?”

Tony frowned. “And by stay with me…?”

“Stay with you,” Riley confirmed. “Twenty-four hours.”

“Oh, that’s so not happening,” The words might have been in his brain but it was Abby who spoke them out loud.

Before Tony could agree, the elevator dinged.

Carrington charged out, gun drawn. Another Sentinel, a dark haired and beautiful woman Tony had never seen before, was right behind him. They both converged on the small group, sending Riley into an immediate protective stance, gun in hand.

Tony’s alarm shot up as he felt their heightened emotions and surging adrenaline; all of them were skirting the edge of feral. His panther appeared in front of him; snarling a warning. He pushed Abby. “Back into the lab. Now, Abby! Close the door and call Gibbs.”

“What about you?” Abby asked despite taking a large step back so she was inside the lab.

“I’ll be fine,” Tony said with a confidence he didn’t feel. He heard the snick as the door closed but didn’t let it distract him from the tense stand-off in front of him.

He gripped the knife and really wished he had his gun.

-nCIs-

Dimly at the edges of Gibbs’ hearing, he could Tony’s voice was raised in concern…he stopped listening to Henshaw yabbering on about nascent bonds and what that said about his and Tony’s compatibility, the implications of bonding in such circumstances. Instead, he tuned his hearing back to Tony…and swore furiously.

He whirled around, yanked open the office door and ran for the stairs, drawing his gun.

His phone rang a moment later. He pulled it from his belt, flicked it open and answered before Abby could speak.

“I’m on my way,” He closed the phone and pushed it into his pocket.

Behind him, he heard Vance’s voice calling to him; the clip of Henshaw’s impractical stilettos; and Borin was on his six, her gun drawn.

He slowed as he reached the bottom of the stairs and saw Cassie and two of her team huddled at the door, along with another Asian woman who Gibbs rapidly concluded was a visiting Fed. They were peeking out into the area in front of Abby’s lab.

“Agent Yates,” Vance breathed heavily as he pushed past Borin and came to stand on the same step as Gibbs. “Report.”

Cassie turned around. “Sir. We were discussing our case with FBI Agents Grant and Shen…”

In other words, the FBI had been alerted to Yates’ murder and wanted jurisdiction; they must have come across a similar case.

“Agent Carrington heard something, muttered DiNozzo’s name and took off. Grant was right behind him,” Cassie concluded.

Vance looked at Gibbs.

“Riley, the new Registry guard, surprised Abby and she screamed; DiNozzo reacted,” Gibbs said gruffly.

Yates’ team exchanged a long look and Cassie sighed. “Well, that explains why Carrington charged down here.”

Gibbs glared at her wanting an explanation.

“He’s been worried about Tony,” Cassie said defensively. “I think he’s been keeping track of him sense-wise.”

“If he’d waited, he’d have heard Riley explaining himself like I did,” Gibbs complained.

“I believe my partner was triggered by Agent Carrington’s belief that a Guide was in distress. She has only reacted this way once and it was a similar situation,” Shen said rising in a graceful way that spoke of ballet lessons and martial arts. “All three Sentinels including my partner are outside of your forensic lab along with another man who I assume is this DiNozzo?”

Three Sentinels.

Borin took out her phone and called in a Registry containment team.

“What are they doing?” Vance demanded before Gibbs could.

“The Sentinels are kind of in a stand-off,” Agent Beverly Powers, a young blonde with a cheerful personality and Yates’ probie, spoke up.

Gibbs felt his own Sentinel surge forward and he wrestled it back, needing to stay in control.

“What are they doing exactly?” asked Vance impatiently.

“Red haired Sentinel is in front of DiNozzo who’s guarding the lab door; Carrington and Grant are challenging him to get to DiNozzo,” Yates’ final team member Charlie Lopez, a seasoned investigator, described the scene in front of him. “DiNozzo’s the only one without a gun although he’s got a knife and um, a panther? Panther aside, if they get to him, he’s pretty screwed.”

That was it; Gibbs had had enough.

“Nobody is getting to DiNozzo!” Gibbs snarled and stepped forward, pushing his way through to the door, ignoring the hands that tried to grab him and hold him back; the shouted order from Vance to stay where he was.

He slammed the door open and moved out into the corridor, gun out and pointed at the Sentinels in front of him.

Grant was the first to react to his presence, swivelling round to face him. A female Sentinel, Gibbs catalogued her slim build and attractiveness dispassionately. Her eyes were wide and her breathing unsteady. She was on the cusp of feral.

Gibbs kept his grip on his gun tight.

Carrington was the next one. His blue eyes were glazed; his Sentinel was wholly in control which made him dangerous – especially the way he was fixated on Tony. He growled at the sight of Gibbs, his body tensing.

Riley kept his body between DiNozzo and everyone else. His pale blue eyes met Gibbs’, and he gave an almost imperceptible nod. He was in control and doing his job, but he was hanging on by a thread, pushed to the limits by the advancing Sentinels and the surging tension in the air.

“DiNozzo?” called Gibbs, shifting to look at his Senior Field Agent.

“Boss,” Tony answered. He was holding position between the Sentinels and the lab. He was keeping Abby safe.

“Your shield?” Gibbs checked, truly aware for the first time that his senses were already reaching out and automatically grounding on Tony’s voice, the sight of him, the scent of him.

Tony spent a moment considering his answer so Gibbs knew he was truthful when he spoke. “Holding for now.”

But not for long. Not with all the emotions running riot in the three Sentinels.

Gibbs shifted back to the Sentinel threat in front of him. Carrington had zeroed in on him as more of a threat than Riley and that was fine with Gibbs.

“Agent Grant,” Gibbs didn’t take his eyes off Carrington when he addressed the FBI agent. “Guide DiNozzo is only in danger because we are all on the verge of feral. I need you to step back and rejoin your partner in the stairwell behind me.”

“The Guide is in distress,” Grant stuttered out.

“Agent Grant, is it?” Tony spoke before Gibbs could growl his response at her. “I’m Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. You can call me Tony.”

“Tony,” Grant was inching back from feral, reason returning to her eyes.

Carrington snarled, his blue eyes flashing towards Grant. It was a warning to stop talking to Tony.

Tony glanced at Gibbs and Gibbs nodded for him to continue anyway. They needed Grant out of the way.

“Agent, I need you to follow Gibbs’ order,” Tony said calmly. “He’s my Boss. He has my six. And frankly, I trust him more than I trust you to have it.”

The moment her reason fully returned was almost visible; a flicker in her eyes and she was back.

Grant swivelled on her sensible boot heel immediately; her back to Gibbs, her gun trained on Carrington. She started walking backwards towards Gibbs until she was shoulder to shoulder with him.

“You got him?” She asked.

“Got him, Agent Grant,” Gibbs said politely.

“Don’t make me regret this,” Grant said to him, and slipped behind the stairwell door.

One down.

Two to go.

Gibbs checked in with Tony who gave a brisk nod.

“Riley,” Gibbs said gruffly. “You need to step away, go down the corridor and get out of sight of Carrington.”

“I’m not leaving,” Riley bit out. “DiNozzo is under my protection and if I move there’s nothing between him and Carrington.”

“He isn’t going to hurt me,” Tony replied, keeping his voice even. “Mark responded to my reacting to you as a threat. If you leave, he might get some reason back. But you have to leave, Agent Riley, and you have to leave now.”

“If I step away…” Riley began to argue.

Carrington’s head snapped around to Riley, another animalistic growl escaping from him.

“He sees you as the threat,” Tony repeated. “Step away, Agent Riley.”

Tony did something; Gibbs could feel it. A cold rush of something that hit Riley full force.

And Riley stepped away, gun still on Carrington, but he stepped away and kept going until he disappeared from view.

Tony was breathing heavily by the time Riley was gone. The panther’s tail lashed back and forth, clueing Gibbs in on Tony’s state of mind.

“Tony?” Gibbs asked concerned.

Whatever Tony had done had taken it out of him.

“I’m good, Boss,” Tony said shortly.

Gibbs knew it meant Tony wasn’t good but he was good enough to hold it together for the rest of the confrontation.

Carrington’s attention focused on Tony’s voice and he took a step toward him, ignoring the black hissing panther in front of him. “Guide.”

Gibbs’ anger sky-rocketed at the possessive edge in Carrington’s voice; it took him close to feral. “Agent Carrington!”

Carrington immediately spun back to Gibbs; worse, he moved, blocking Gibbs’ view of Tony.

And Gibbs’ spirit animal, a scarred white panther, roared into being; a spitting wild cat, crouched low in front of Gibbs and issuing a fierce challenge to Carrington.

“Boss, what are you doing?” Tony sounded shocked but Gibbs was too angry to respond.

“He’s mine!” yelled Carrington. Another spirit animal appeared; a snarling cougar. “You can’t have him!”

Gibbs stopped thinking. It was a challenge from one Sentinel to another. Tony was his. His agent. His second. His Guide. Carrington had no right to claim him and Gibbs was damned if he was going to sit back and let Carrington anywhere near Tony.

The spirit cats immediately sprang for one another.

Carrington charged down the corridor.

“What the hell…?” Tony’s panicked words were lost as Gibbs moved to meet Carrington’s attack.

Carrington went for a body tackle…

Gibbs sidestepped it, changed the grip on his gun and pistol whipped the back of Carrington’s head with it.

Carrington yelled out and spun round, a punch aimed at Gibbs’ face.

Gibbs let it land to bring his body in close to Carrington’s…

And he went to smash his elbow into the younger man’s nose…

In the periphery of his vision he saw Carrington’s other hand moving – the one with his gun…pointing at blank range at Gibbs’ gut…

“NO!” Tony screamed.

And for a second it was though the world froze for Gibbs.

Carrington’s arm yanked sideways suddenly…

The gunshot was loud and brutal in Gibbs’ ear…

But he snapped his fist up into Carrington’s jaw and Carrington went down, eyes rolling back in his head.

Out cold.

Gibbs kicked away Carrington’s weapon as his white panther roared a victory…the cougar disappearing…

And Gibbs looked immediately for Tony.

Who was lying crumpled on the floor in front of Abby’s lab.

“Tony!”

Gibbs’ entire world narrowed to Tony.

One moment he was at one end of the corridor and in the next he was kneeling beside Tony’s curled up body. Tony had his hands over his ears as though trying to block out every sound; he was rocking faintly back and forth; his eyes were tightly screwed shut and his nose was bleeding.

He was in pain.

Was he shot? Had Carrington’s shot hit Tony?

Gibbs lightly tapped Tony’s head. “DiNozzo!”

Tony moaned abruptly. “Boss?”

“Shot? Are you shot, Tony?”

Tony’s eyes opened and he blinked out at him. “No…just hurts. Had to stop Mark shooting you and it…hurts. Head.”

OK, Gibbs’ heart started to slow down.

“Your shield?” Gibbs asked hurriedly.

“Down,” Tony got out. “Haven’t…everything’s too much…everyone feels too much. God…so much pain and fear and…and loneliness…” he had tears streaming down his face.

Gibbs swallowed hard. Ducky’s words from earlier that day surfaced in his mind; if Tony was fully bonded, he’d focus on his Sentinel and it would help create a barrier between Tony and the rest of the world. If Henshaw was right and he and Tony shared some kind of nascent bond, would that help Tony or hurt him further?

There was only one way to find out.

Gibbs hesitantly reached out and gathered Tony up. He manoeuvred them; Gibbs’s back against the wall just to the side of the lab door, Tony sprawled over him with his long legs tangled with Gibbs’; Gibbs’ arms were around him, holding him close; Tony’s head resting on Gibbs’ chest.

“Boss?” Tony murmured, his shock colouring every word.

“Focus on me,” Gibbs said. “Just focus on me and nothing else.” His mouth was dry.

Tony huddled closer and Gibbs gripped him tightly.

Their panthers paced back and forth protectively in front of them.

“‘S better,” Tony mumbled into Gibbs’ jacket. His fingers were clenched in the lapels; still white from the strain of feeling too many emotions.

Gibbs brought one hand up to cradle the back of Tony’s head where year after year, day after day, he’d lightly slapped the younger man, thinking at the time that he was only refocusing Tony’s attention to a case…but in hindsight Gibbs could see it had been to reconnect himself with Tony…

“What the hell were you thinking, Boss?”

Gibbs kept carding his fingers through Tony’s hair. He hadn’t been thinking. He’d just been focused on putting Carrington down for daring to claim Tony.

He couldn’t deny that it was looking more and more like Henshaw was right. Only Tony had no idea; his bewilderment at Gibbs’ actions was real.

And why should he know Gibbs was partially bonded to him, Gibbs considered seriously.

Tony had spent years thinking he couldn’t bond with any Sentinel let alone Gibbs. He thought Gibbs had no want to bond, and Gibbs knew that Tony understood why after their conversation in the hospital. Tony hadn’t heard Henshaw’s theory of their partial bond; hadn’t heard Borin’s observations…hadn’t put their incredible partnership on the job together with how a Guide and Sentinel should work.

There was a moment’s temptation never to tell him – to reject the bond without Tony ever knowing about it. His remembered pain at losing Shannon surfaced again; his fear that he’d never survive a second loss…that he’d never survive losing Tony.

But the Sentinel in him knew it was already too late. They weren’t fully bonded but it didn’t matter. Gibbs’ reaction to Carrington’s challenge told Gibbs everything he needed to know: Gibbs already considered Tony his Guide and Tony deserved to know; deserved to have the choice…

But Gibbs refused to have that conversation in the middle of a corridor at NCIS. “We’ll talk about it later, DiNozzo.”

Tony didn’t reply and when Gibbs looked down anxiously, he realised the younger man had fallen into another exhausted sleep.

-nCIs-

Tony blinked open his eyes and immediately snapped them closed again.

What the hell had he been drinking to have gotten such a bad hangover? It was worse than the last one he’d gotten taking the Japanese guys out for saki bombing – and really he was losing his touch if one saki bomb (and he had honestly limited himself to just the one not that he’d admit it to another living soul) and a beer caused a hangover. Losing his touch or getting old, Tony mused despondently.

Either way, it didn’t explain the hammers pounding in his head right at that moment.

Think, Tony told himself, what was the last thing he remembered?

The stand-off with the Sentinels outside Abby’s lab.

The enormous amount of relief when Gibbs had shown up.

Grant and Riley – with a little bit of encouragement – leaving.

Mark going crazy.

Gibbs going equally crazy.

The moment he’d had to reach out empathically and stop Mark shooting Gibbs…

Remembered fear had his guts tensing into knots.

If he’d reacted only a split second later…

And then pain.

So much pain.

So many feelings crashing in on him. Pain. Fear. Loneliness. Despair. Lust. Someone having sex in the closet by autopsy…a guy leering over a pretty intern in Legal.

And undertones of real joy. A pregnant woman down in HR soothing her baby. A security guard out on the perimeter genuinely in love with his best friend who loved him back. A father’s glee about his child’s success…

Too much.

Too much.

And then Gibbs had been there.

The whole world muffled and blocked out because Tony could only focus on Gibbs and the swirling confusion of Gibbs’ feelings; of want and need, and loss and fear, and hope and something that felt like an honourable intent to do something. And above all that, Gibbs holding him close, stroking his hand through Tony’s hair so soothingly. The sound of Gibbs’ steady heartbeat lulling Tony to relax. The smell of coffee and…and Gibbs making him feel safe.

He flushed. His face heating up to what he figured was bright red. God, he’d curled up like a needy baby and fallen asleep on his Boss.

He raised his good hand and rubbed it enthusiastically over his face as though it would scrub away the embarrassment and shame and the memory…

Tony carefully kept his eyelids half-lowered, blocking out the majority of the sunlight streaming in over him, and took a look around since his brief glimpse earlier hadn’t shown him much.

Gibbs’ den.

He was in Gibbs’ den, lying on Gibbs’ old couch. There was an IV stand near to his head and there was a port inserted into the back of his hand, secured by tape, although there was no tube attached. He was in sweats; old threadbare ones he’d left at Gibbs’ once.

Gibbs was fast asleep in the chair beside the bottom of the couch; one hand stretched out and latched onto Tony’s ankle. He’d evidently changed into his ‘at-home’ gear; a hooded Marine sweatshirt and old battered jeans. His eyes snapped open suddenly as though he knew Tony was staring at him.

“Hey,” Gibbs said gruffly.

“Hey,” Tony said back a lot more hesitantly.

They just looked at each other in silence.

Ducky hurried in, coming from the direction of the kitchen. “Anthony.”

“Ducky!” Tony winced. He held a finger up to his lips. “Please.” He whispered.

Gibbs moved back into Tony’s view, his face creased with concern. “Headache?”

“Whopper,” Tony managed to get out.

“Sorry, my dear boy,” Ducky said. “Let me take a look at you now you’re awake.”

There wasn’t much of a choice but Tony managed to make a case for a visit to the bathroom first. He wobbled when he was finally on his feet and ended up hanging onto Gibbs all the way there. Just holding himself upright enough to empty his bladder, wash his hands, brush his teeth with his own toothbrush that he recognised from his go-bag toiletries, and rinse his face afterwards was exhausting.

Once they had Tony back on the couch, Gibbs disappeared into the kitchen and Ducky set about his examination. Tony endured it – even the wrestling back into his sling – since it also meant losing the IV port. Finally, Ducky reached into his medical bag and took out a vial of painkiller and a syringe. He competently loaded the syringe and turned back to Tony.

“Thigh or buttock?” Ducky asked clinically.

Tony grimaced, eased onto his side and used his one hand to adjust his sweats to reveal one upper cheek of his bottom.

A moment later the sharp pinch of the needle had him wincing and swallowing down a surge of nausea. Another moment it was all over and Ducky was helping him readjust his clothing and settle back against his pillow.

Ducky professionally disposed of the used needle into a small bag, sealed it and placed it into his medical bag. “Now, I think some soup wouldn’t go amiss.”

Tony sighed and blurted out the only thing on his mind. “Why am I here?”

Ducky’s eyes twinkled. “A rather interesting question with a number of answers.”

“I’d settle for one,” Tony said, the drugs were kicking in, the pain in his head receding. His eyes pleaded with Ducky. “I need to know what happened.”

“What’s the last thing you recall?” asked Ducky gently.

“Passing out on Gibbs,” Tony said in a clipped tone, refusing to acknowledge how his cheeks grew hot again.

“You have no cause to be ashamed, Anthony,” Ducky reassured him, “your body and spirit have been through a great deal in the last forty-eight hours.” He patted Tony’s arm gently. “Food.” He said. “And then I’m sure Jethro will debrief you himself.”

Tony didn’t argue. He let his eyes shut out the world and listened to the sounds of Ducky bustling back in the kitchen; the low murmur of Ducky’s conversation with Gibbs. A nice haze was blanketing his body’s aches; his headache dulling into a dim pain that he could live with.

It was Gibbs who came back with the promised soup. Tony sat up and accepted the old-fashioned tray onto his lap. He found a napkin tucked around his neck and a soup spoon in his hand before he could blink.

The vegetable soup was homemade and delicious; Tony could have inhaled the whole bowl but he forced himself to go slowly.

Gibbs settled back into the chair he’d occupied when Tony had woken up. “Ducky says you don’t remember coming here?”

Tony shook his head.

“You were rather insensate, my dear boy,” Ducky said taking a seat on the coffee table. “During your confrontation with the Sentinels, the Director placed us on lockdown and the Registry took over. Once Jethro gave the all-clear for the situation outside Abigail’s lab, the Registry medics attempted to insist you return to Bethesda given you had suffered another empathic episode. You woke up just long enough to protest and well…”

“Empathically everyone got a dose of how much you didn’t want to go to Bethesda,” Gibbs said matter-of-factly. “Ducky and I overruled them as your personal physician and medical proxy.”

“With some sterling support from Margaret,” Ducky said pointedly.

Gibbs grunted.

“Margaret?” inquired Tony curious.

“Doctor Margaret Henshaw, the Registry Lead Guide,” Ducky explained. “She’s actually a very good friend of mine. We were at med school together, you know? There was this one time…”

“Ducky,” Gibbs said cutting him off.

“Yes, sorry, where were we?” Ducky pulled himself back on topic. “Maggie supported our position that you would do better outside of a hospital environment, on the condition of course that you had adequate medical supervision.”

“Thanks, Ducky,” Tony said sincerely, understanding that Ducky had stepped in to provide said medical support and saving him from a second hospital trip in as many days. He grimaced. “You didn’t miss your date with Alma?”

“Think nothing of it, Anthony. Alma understood the necessity and kindly agreed to a rain-check,” Ducky gave him a warm smile which let Tony know Ducky had appreciated being thanked and the implicit apology. “Jethro insisted on bringing you here and the Registry enabled your physical transfer.”

Tony swallowed down a mouthful of soup and frowned, glancing at Gibbs. He guessed Gibbs had wanted home ground.

He didn’t mind much. He liked Gibbs’ house. Not that he’d spent a great deal of time in the place, Tony mused, glancing round at the sturdy building with its mantelpiece stacked with books and the good solid old-fashioned furniture, plain and unadorned like the Boss himself.

No, Tony had rarely visited before Kate joined the team and while there had been a couple of stay-overs after she’d joined for various reasons, he’d rarely visited for the sake of visiting. Gibbs had never been the kind of boss who made his team feel comfortable about just wandering into his personal space.

Kate’s death had changed that for Tony at least, since he’d pretty much followed Gibbs home from the airport after the funeral, mourned Kate, celebrated Ari’s death, and stayed the weekend. And after that…every so often, Tony would drop by even if it was just to sit on Gibbs’ staircase down in the basement and watch him work on the boat. Gibbs’ trip to Mexico hadn’t changed that just…Gibbs hadn’t been there and Tony had had long rambling conversations with an empty room. And the half-finished boat.

Gibbs’ return though…

Tony hadn’t visited much that following year unsure of his welcome. That hadn’t changed after the whole thing with Jeanne had come to light. It had only been after Tony had come back from afloat when Tony had been summarily hustled back to Gibbs’ that first night that he’d realised Gibbs didn’t mind Tony being around necessarily.

He’d half-decided to stay away after Gibbs had cut him out of the loop on Lee only to change his mind when Gibbs had gotten injured; he’d had to stop by and check in on his Boss then. And Gibbs himself had dragged Tony back after the whole Renny Grant disaster for cowboy steaks.

In fact, cowboy steaks and beer with Gibbs had become a comfort for Tony and so Tony had no complaints about Gibbs opting to bring him back to Gibbs’ home territory.

“Well, I believe I shall leave you to explain the rest, Jethro,” Ducky said brightly.

Tony glanced up from scraping the last of his soup out of the bowl. That sounded like there was a lot more to explain. His gaze darted to Gibbs who was glowering angrily at Ducky.

Ducky ignored Gibbs’ anger and quietly packed his things away. “I should return home. Call me if you need anything, Anthony, but I’m certain a little bit more sleep and sustenance will see you right as rain.”

Tony watched bemused as Ducky pulled on his coat and hat. Gibbs followed him to the front door and they had another hushed conversation before Ducky turned and with a final wave was gone. Gibbs sighed heavily and pushed the door closed, an audible click surprising Tony.

“It’s locked?” asked Tony, double-checking.

“A condition of the Registry backing down on your protection detail,” Gibbs explained succinctly.

Tony felt like he was missing something important and going over Ducky’s words he figured there was more to the story of why he’d ended up at Gibbs’ then he had been told. He, tugged the napkin out of his neckline. He went to set the tray aside and Gibbs was suddenly there helping him shift it to the coffee table. “So what else does Ducky think you need to explain to me?”

Gibbs sighed, rubbing the back of his own head which was a tell Tony had clued into a long time ago for Gibbs feeling uncertain or unsure about something. He fidgeted a touch before sinking back into the chair.

“We need to talk.”

And didn’t that sound ominous?

Tony wet his suddenly dry lips and nodded cautiously. “OK.”

Gibbs was silent.

Tony waited patiently.

Nothing.

Tony sighed. “Boss, pretty sure needing to talk actually requires us to, you know, talk?”

Gibbs shot him an annoyed look but he could see the resignation written across Gibbs’ features as though the other man had spoken his surrender out loud.

“Tony…” Gibbs’ eyes met his, solid and fearless, “you’re my Guide.”

-nCIs-

Gibbs waited impatiently for Tony to say something.

Tony continued to stare at him, wide-eyed and shocked into silence. It was rare that anyone or anything made DiNozzo speechless and Gibbs didn’t think it was a good thing that his news had had that effect on Tony. But as the silence stretched, Gibbs felt his nerves snap.

“DiNozzo…” Gibbs began, a hint of warning in his tone.

Tony held up a hand. “I’m kinda on the good drugs here, Boss, but I thought I heard you say I was your Guide.”

“You did,” Gibbs growled.

“I’m your Guide?” Tony repeated in exaggerated disbelief, waggling his eyebrows, his expression inviting Gibbs to let him on the joke.

Gibbs glared at him. “DiNozzo, do I look like I’m joking to you?”

All hints of amusement and good humour fell away from Tony as though they had never been there. There was no-one, Gibbs considered ruefully, better than Tony at hiding behind a mask or becoming someone else.

“No,” Tony said seriously, “you look pissed.” He grimaced. “Which actually gives this thing a whole lot more credence if you really want to know.”

Gibbs inwardly flinched; he knew he’d fuck it up.

He got up and went into the kitchen to gather his thoughts. He dumped the tray he’d absentmindedly picked up on the counter and put on a pot of coffee. By the time he’d poured two cups, lacing one with cream and sugar, he’d about managed to come up with a strategy. He wandered back into the den and hurried over to dump the mugs on the coffee table when he saw Tony was at the front door, trying to navigate the lock.

“DiNozzo!” Gibbs barked, moving over to the hall. “What are you doing?”

“Going home,” Tony replied shaking the door handle and frowning at his lack of progress. He finally slumped against the wood, his forehead touching the smooth surface. “You wanna let me out?”

He sounded so tired.

Gibbs felt his heart lurch a little and he cursed himself under his breath. “Tony, come back to the couch. I made coffee.”

Tony lifted his head and scrutinised him carefully. “Coffee? That’s what you were doing in the kitchen?”

Gibbs nodded, feeling awkward and uncertain. He hadn’t considered what his walking out might have looked like to Tony which he should have done; it was just that Tony was usually very good at reading him.

“Coffee,” Gibbs gestured back to the couch. “Come on.” He felt like he was coaxing a skittish animal and perhaps he realised as Tony looked at him suspiciously, that wasn’t as far from the truth as it should have been.

Tony sighed heavily. “I might need a hand?”

Gibbs helped him back to the couch and wondered how far Tony would have gotten since he’d had no shoes. Or wallet. Or cell phone. And could barely stand.

“Maybe we should wait until you’re not so drugged,” Gibbs muttered as he fussed with Tony’s blanket.

“Just…tell me,” Tony said sharply.

Gibbs handed him a coffee, took a large sip of his own and wished it was bourbon. “Abby told you we were up in Vance’s office talking about your future.”

Tony nodded. “Which I should have totally been a part of by the way.”

It was a good point. Tony was a Guide not a child to be coddled and have decisions made on his behalf.

“Some of it was legal bullshit, Tony, but the upshot is that you’re still an agent, the agency doesn’t get rapped over the knuckles for breaking the rules for the last eight years and you don’t get rapped over the knuckles for omitting that you were registered as a Guide.”

“OK,” Tony breathed out. “That’s good, I guess?”

“Bromstead ruled that you can’t be in the field,” Gibbs said, delivering the news bluntly. “That’s when Henshaw came up with her theory.”

“Henshaw?” Tony’s brow creased. “Ducky’s old school friend Maggie?”

“And the Lead Guide at the Registry,” Gibbs stressed. His fingers clenched around his mug. “She was the one who suggested you’re my Guide.”

“You meant that we’re compatible or both unbonded and working closely together or…” Tony dug deeper, trying to understand the meaning of what Gibbs had said.

“Or that we have a nascent bond already,” Gibbs stated firmly.

“Boss, what does that even mean?” Tony asked. His ‘can you please get to the point already?’ wasn’t spoken but Gibbs got the message that the younger man had had enough evasion.

“You’ve always been a Guide,” Gibbs kept his tone even, not giving a hint of an accusatory edge that he knew Tony would take badly. “I’ve always been a Sentinel. Regardless of you not officially acting as my Guide or my not consciously using you as a Guide, Henshaw believes we both fell into the roles subconsciously.”

He could see Tony ticking over that in his head and reaching the same inexorable conclusion that Gibbs had up in Vance’s office.

“I guess I can kind of see why she might think that,” Tony admitted carefully, obviously wary of Gibbs’ reaction.

“Borin had a whole set of observations to back up her view of it.” Gibbs agreed. “And they’re both right; I’ve used you to ground my senses. You anticipate my needs. The only time I’ve spiked since I met you was when you were afloat.”

Tony’s green eyes were as deadly serious as Gibbs had ever seen them. “So I’ve acted as your Guide without understanding that’s what I’ve been doing and you’ve grounded on me as your Guide without knowing you’re doing it. Is that what they mean by nascent bond? ‘Cause I’ve never heard that term before today, Boss.”

“Me either and they mean something between what you’ve described and an actual full bond,” Gibbs explained gruffly, shifting in his seat, uncomfortable at having to be the one to tell Tony. “I should have had Ducky explain all this.”

Tony smiled at him sympathetically. “You’re not doing too badly, Boss.” His smile changed nuance a touch, becoming a little more light-hearted. “You know now you’re doing the actual talking thing.”

Gibbs’ lips twitched. He took the reassurance and raised his mug in gratitude. He felt some of the tension ease out of his tight muscles.

“From what Henshaw says nascent bonds are rare but can happen, particularly when unbonded Guides and Sentinels are around each other and aren’t careful about their physical contact,” Gibbs sipped his coffee. “They’ve seen it happen before.” He waved towards Tony with his mug. “We made physical contact on meeting. I’ve head-slapped you for years.” He shrugged.

Tony’s eyes widened again. “And they think that is enough to form a bond?”

“A nascent bond,” Gibbs grimaced.

Silence fell again.

“So we’re bonded?” Tony checked. “Even if it is just in this nascent way?”

Gibbs nodded.

“And that’s what you meant when you said I was your Guide?”

Gibbs nodded again.

“Wow,” Tony finally drank some of the coffee. His expression was contemplative.

Gibbs took a deep breath and gave voice to the thought he was sure was running through Tony’s mind. “The question is what happens now.”

-nCIs-

It was a good question.

Tony tried to get his mind working past the sluggishness caused by the drugs and thanked Ducky silently that the ME had given him something that wouldn’t send him completely loopy. He definitely needed his wits about him for a conversation with Gibbs that he’d never thought he’d have. Of course, that hadn’t stopped him being stupid and trying to leave.

What had he been thinking?

Well, he hadn’t been thinking, Tony concluded with some amusement for his own illogicality in trying to go to his own apartment. He wasn’t even wearing shoes…all he’d known was Gibbs had abandoned him in the den and clearly hadn’t wanted to discuss the bombshell he’d dropped. It hadn’t occurred to him that Gibbs was getting coffee.

But he could blame it on the drugs.

And wasn’t this a nice deflection of Gibbs’ question?

Tony sighed and raised his gaze back to the older man. “Is this nascent bond thing useful at all?”

Gibbs looked satisfied as though Tony had clued into the right lead or understood who the suspect was. He sipped his coffee. “Not anymore.”

It was just like Gibbs to give Tony the minimal amount of information so he’d work it out himself. In the bullpen it was a good training technique; in a personal conversation it was frustrating. Tony took a deep breath and calmed himself down.

Think it through, Tony told himself sternly. Gibbs had said the nascent bond wasn’t useful anymore. Gibbs had to know that Tony was most concerned about retaining his field status and so saying it wasn’t useful meant that legally they couldn’t use it to claim Tony was bonded and should be fine in the field.

But it had been useful in the past. Probably at keeping Gibbs’ Sentinel abilities stable, Tony mused. Gibbs had never spiked or zoned as far as Tony knew. Maybe having a pseudo-Guide around had helped with that. Only it wasn’t going to be useful now which meant what? That Tony’s change to an active Guide, or Gibbs’ knowledge of Tony as a Guide, or others’ knowledge of Tony as a Guide had made their nascent bond useless somehow in keeping Gibbs’ senses stable?

He briefly summarised his conclusions out loud.

Gibbs gave a satisfied hum. “You got the highlights.” He shifted under Tony’s silent request to expand the brief statement. “Legally, it doesn’t have a standing. You still have to be fully bonded to be in the field. Henshaw said we could challenge but it was unlikely to be upheld especially since…”

“Since it’s no longer keeping you stable,” Tony’s concern surged forward. “What are we talking about? Spikes and zones?”

“Uncontrolled behaviour,” Gibbs said succinctly. “You’re my Guide but until we fully bond, all other Sentinels consider you available, and right now, they know you are available. If they challenge like Carrington did…”

“You’d fight them,” Tony thought back to the way Gibbs had just escalated during the confrontation with Carrington. He frowned. “How is Mark?”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Gibbs’ features tensed.

And suddenly Tony got it. The nascent bond had Gibbs feeling possessive. So, no asking about another Sentinel; no showing interest in another Sentinel; no looking at another Sentinel without Gibbs’ Sentinel getting all growly.

His hope fluttered briefly inside of him; Gibbs was possessive about him. No, Tony corrected himself sharply; Gibbs’ Sentinel was possessive about his Guide. It wasn’t anything personal. Gibbs hadn’t consciously chosen him. They’d ended up with this nascent bond by accident and Tony should be thanking Gibbs for not blaming him for them developing it in the first place.

Disappointment settled into Tony’s bones and made him weary. He forced his mind back on track. OK. So they couldn’t just stay with the status quo which left what?

Fully bonding?

His heart pounded painfully in his chest at the idea.

He knew Gibbs didn’t want to be bonded.

Between the drugs and his injuries, Tony’s shield was at minimum strength and as much as he was resisting actively reading Gibbs, he wasn’t able to block the Sentinel’s emotions from washing over him from time to time.

Only…for all he didn’t want to be bonded, Gibbs hadn’t mentioned breaking the bond either and Tony wasn’t certain if he should suggest it – whether it was likely to trigger Gibbs’ Sentinel. And maybe Gibbs’ Sentinel side wouldn’t let Gibbs consider it.

Almost as though Gibbs had read his mind, the older man cleared his throat. Tony witnessed the internal struggle play out on Gibbs’ features. “The nascent bond won’t break unless another Sentinel challenges me and wins; claims you.” He finally managed to say.

Tony slumped back against his pillow. That sounded very violent and not something he’d want to put Gibbs through – or himself.

“What about if you found another Guide?” Tony offered awkwardly.

Gibbs set his coffee down. “I wasn’t expecting to be bonded again, Tony. You…I told you about Shannon.”

“So you’re stuck with me?” Tony tried to lighten things up and flashed a smile – his ‘Oops – did I do that?’ with just the right hint of ruefulness smile – at Gibbs. “Sorry, Boss.”

Gibbs smiled slightly, responding to Tony’s humour. “Not your fault, Tony. Neither of us knew this nascent bond thing was a possibility.”

But the humour hadn’t worked really. Tony saw the tension in Gibbs’ jaw; the pain in his eyes. He felt Gibbs’ unhappiness. His first response was to soothe it away and he didn’t think about his own feelings in his rush to reassure Gibbs.

“When Abby and I were talking, I was thinking how finding a Sentinel was going to be like finding someone to marry or like finding the right cop partnership; really, really difficult. But while I’ve never managed to find someone to marry, I have been lucky enough to find the best on-the-job partnership I could ask for, so…” he held Gibbs’ gaze, “if I am your Guide, then I’m doubly lucky. There’s nobody else I’d rather choose.”

He blushed realising belatedly how much of his admiration and affection for Gibbs he’d given away.

But the blue in Gibbs’ eyes warmed like the sky on a Summer’s day and warmed Tony inside and out, even as he acknowledged Gibbs hadn’t returned the sentiment. But then if Gibbs could choose someone, it would be Shannon, and Tony understood that, he really did.

Gibbs cleared his throat. “We’ll need to fully bond so my Sentinel settles down and you can get back to field work.” And Gibbs’ certainty that bonding was the best solution to their problems bled through Tony’s shields and provided some reassurance.

Bonding. Which meant up close and physical. But only in a platonic way.

He knew anything more wasn’t on the table without Gibbs explicitly spelling it out. The secret hope Tony had had for finding a love match with his Sentinel – the hope he’d hidden so thoroughly from himself he hadn’t even known about it until it wasn’t a possibility – was just Tony being greedy.

Tony tried to soothe away his inner ache. Most Sentinels and Guides only formed strong platonic bonds. And he and Gibbs already had that, underneath the bumps and bruises of the past few years. He had a great Sentinel. A good partner.

And once they were bonded as Sentinel and Guide, Gibbs wouldn’t necessarily have an issue with Tony continuing to date women. Men might be a bit tricky and Sentinels would be off the dating card completely…but Tony’s love life wasn’t over just because his Sentinel didn’t want him that way.

“When?” asked Tony tiredly. His body ached inside and out, the hammers had returned to his head, and he couldn’t contemplate the thought of bonding.

“Not today,” Gibbs agreed. “When you’ve rested up.”

And he wasn’t drugged.

He could feel Gibbs’s determination not to have any ambiguity about consent and Tony appreciated that.

“Get some rest, Tony.”

“On it, Boss,” Tony said sleepily.

He watched as Gibbs retreated to the basement.

Tony sighed and closed his eyes.

He was going to be bonded to Gibbs.

He was bonded in a small way to Gibbs already.

And he’d told the truth; if he could choose anyone, he would always choose Gibbs. When he’d realised he was active, it had been the wish he hadn’t dared to even think; a truth he’d never voiced because he’d already known how Gibbs felt.

But fate was strange and Tony had without even asking for him, gotten the Sentinel he wanted.

Only he hadn’t. Not really.

Because Gibbs might have accepted the situation, accepted Tony was his Guide, but underneath his belief it was the right thing to do, Gibbs still didn’t want to be bonded to Tony.

Tony swallowed the lump in his throat and ignored the prickle and sting behind his eyes. He closed them shut, blocking out the rest of the world. When he wake up he’d focus on the positive; on bonding with a Sentinel like Gibbs who was a good man; on being able to keep his job and his team. And he’d learn to accept he wasn’t Gibbs’ choice and try to make it as easy on Gibbs as he could.

-nCIs-

The rough scrape of the sandpaper against the wood filled Gibbs with momentary peace. He rubbed in smooth strokes, patient and silent. The bare bulb of one light lit up the far corner of the basement but the rest of the space was filled with shadows cast by the sizable boat.

The ‘Kelly’ was completed. Somehow the boat had become his memorial to his late family; grief stroked into every sanded plank and rib; the anger of loss in pieces broken but then replaced with care; his sadness caught forever in wood splashed tears hidden under the polish; and finally, acceptance written starkly in the name that decorated the boat’s side.

All that was left was to let go.

The events of the past few days made it likely to happen sooner rather than later – but Gibbs had retreated to the basement to forget and he tried to keep his mind focused on the wood. Of course his mind drifted to events regardless…

It had been almost five days since Tony had gone to Ziva’s apartment; four since the uncomfortable revelation that Gibbs had formed a nascent bond with his Senior Field Agent; three since he’d told Tony. They’d resolutely stayed away from the topic since then.

Gibbs had focused on practicalities as Tony recovered from his ordeal at Rivkin’s hands and the strain that came with the return of active empathy. He’d made sure Tony had food; had shelter; had protection. Ducky had come by every day to assess Tony’s progress and had brought a portable DVD player, Tony’s iPod and enough clothing for Tony to get through a couple of weeks without going back to his apartment.

It had been hard for Gibbs not to feel resentful of Tony’s belongings creeping into his home, disturbing the natural order. But Gibbs had swallowed his own discomfort knowing Tony’s shield was thin and if the younger man had any true idea of how freaked Gibbs was, he’d leave. Instead he’d shifted Tony to the spare room Gibbs usually occupied when he wanted a bed rather than making do with his sofa or basement floor. It was the same spare room that Tony had used the rare few times he had stayed at Gibbs’ before.

Gibbs sanded the wood in front of him carefully. Tony had been quiet; too quiet. Gibbs would have felt guilty about that but he was too busy trying to come to terms with his own changed circumstances to dwell on how Tony was coping.

Footsteps creaked across the floor and the door to the basement opened, sending a flood of light over the landing at the top and the upper stairs. Gibbs didn’t look up. He recognised Ducky’s gait and the way the medical examiner tsked loudly at the sight of him hiding away in the basement.

Ducky descended and walked up to the edge of the workbench. Gibbs glanced up and wished he hadn’t as he met Ducky’s concerned but determined expression.

“Anthony is much better,” Ducky began, “indeed he is well enough that if he was bonded I would have no qualms in allowing him to return to his own home.”

Gibbs flickered away back to the wood in front of him.

“Of course for bonding to have taken place, if you had read the literature I brought you and Anthony from Maggie, then you would know it would have required you to speak to him,” Ducky continued furiously.

He had read the literature. Late at night at the dining table while Tony slept.

“He has just asked me directly if I would be willing to drive him home, Jethro,” Ducky said exasperated.

That shocked Gibbs into looking at Ducky again.

“He wants to leave?” Gibbs checked, his mouth suddenly dry and his heart beginning to beat rapidly; anxiety spiking at the thought of his Guide leaving the sanctuary of Gibbs’ home.

Ducky raised his eyebrows pointedly. “What do you expect, Jethro?” He asked harshly. “You have hardly given him any reason to believe that he was welcome here beyond his immediate need to recover from his injuries.”

Gibbs yanked his gaze away from Ducky’s and fidgeted with the sandpaper he was holding.

“Every day I have visited since leaving him here in your care, I have found that young man alone,” Ducky remonstrated.

“He has his movies,” Gibbs said defensively. “That’s hardly my thing.”

Ducky frowned at him. “You and I both know that Tony would be content to spend simply an hour in your company doing nothing at all.” He paused for breath. “I dare say he would have happily sat down here with you, had you not made it clear you had no wish for him to do so.”

“I haven’t told him to keep out,” Gibbs said defensively.

“Haven’t you?” Ducky shot back.

Gibbs spun away from Ducky’s accusatory glare. “I’m just trying to get my head around it.” He bit out. “I didn’t realise I wasn’t allowed to do that!”

“Oh, do get over yourself, Jethro,” Ducky chastised. “Nobody is saying anything such thing. Of course you’re allowed to consider the implications of your newly discovered connection with Anthony; to come to terms with what it means for you and your life going forward. But,” he gestured back up the stairs, “not at the expense of hurting Anthony.”

Gibbs flushed, embarrassed both at the dressing down, but also at the guilt that wormed its way into him and sat heavily on his heart.

“And if you think him unaware then think again,” Ducky continued. “The reason he gave me for wanting to leave was very much about making it easier on you.”

“Damn it,” Gibbs grumbled, throwing down the sandpaper and dropping his head down to stare at the floor. “I didn’t mean to…”

“Make him feel that he is spectacularly unwanted and on the cusp of being rejected by his Sentinel?” Ducky cut in bluntly. “Well, you have.” He shifted position, pushing his hands deep into the pockets of his raincoat. “I blame myself. I should have picked up on his emotional state sooner, but he is very practiced at pretending to be fine and I allowed myself to foolishly believe that knowing what he has been through, you would not be so cruel as to shut him out completely.”

Gibbs flinched from another well aimed shot from his old friend.

“No-one is discounting how difficult an adjustment this will be, Jethro,” Ducky said evenly, “you are both fiercely independent men who have each their own share of emotional hurts and wounds that need to be handled with care. But you must keep in mind that you are not alone in this. Anthony is hard wired to put your needs first, both as your Guide and as your loyal Senior Field Agent. I will not allow you to selfishly take advantage of that to Anthony’s own detriment.”

His possessiveness stirred, outraged that Ducky would lay claim to protecting Anthony when it was Gibbs’ place to do so. He glared at Ducky angrily.

“Ah,” Ducky said, “I see that got your attention.”

Gibbs felt his face growing warm again.

Ducky smiled without humour. “Have you in your ruminating considered the gift you have been given, Jethro? You have a wonderful Guide who has already proven he will lay down his life for you. Not only that but you are assured that Anthony cares for you. He is a funny, warm and compassionate man who has remained a good and loyal friend to you even when you truly would have deserved it had he chosen to walk away.”

“I made a mistake with the Domino thing,” Gibbs admitted gruffly.

“And, as much as I care for her, with trusting Ziva,” Ducky pointed out.

Gibbs sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. In hindsight he knew he’d made a lot of missteps with Tony. He grimaced thinking back to how he’d returned from Mexico; the way he’d reasserted his leadership of the team. He’d been an ass.

And he’d been an ass the past few days, hiding in his basement feeling sorry for himself; thinking only of the inconvenience of his bond with Tony; regretting too much that Tony wasn’t Shannon. He remembered Tony’s reassurance that he counted himself lucky and that he would have chosen Gibbs…and realised he hadn’t reciprocated at all.

“I see you’re finally getting ‘it’ as they say,” Ducky said, sounding far too amused for Gibbs’ liking.

“How do I fix this, Duck?”

Ducky’s countenance finally softened. “I’m sure you’ll think of something, Jethro, but if I may make a suggestion?”

Gibbs nodded.

“Do not dwell on what you have lost but what you have gained,” Ducky nodded decisively as he scoured Gibbs’ expression searching for something which he evidently found. “I trust this time you will actually talk to the boy.” He was gone before Gibbs could promise he’d follow Ducky’s advice.

Gibbs slowly packed away his latest project. He turned and leaned back against the edge of the workbench as he regarded the boat lovingly and with a twinge of bittersweet regret. He ran a hand through his hair before folding his arms over his chest, pulling the grey t-shirt he wore taut.

Tony deserved better. For all Gibbs had ensured Tony took his meds, got fed and watered, and slept a full eight hours a night, he hadn’t done a good job taking care of Tony. He hadn’t been available to Tony as a friend or as a Sentinel.

The problem was, Gibbs mused, that he could never truthfully say to Tony what Tony had said to him. Gibbs would always choose Shannon as his Guide if he had a choice. But he didn’t and it was unfair to Tony because clearly the Sentinel part of him had chosen Tony as his Guide, just as Gibbs believed the cop part of him had chosen DiNozzo as his partner.

And he did appreciate that out of everyone he might have formed a nascent bond with that it was ultimately Tony who was his Guide. Tony was the best agent Gibbs had worked with bar none. Tony was a cop through and through; investigation came naturally to him like breathing. He could see links and patterns where others couldn’t; could chase down an obscure lead as good as he could chase a suspect down. He could get people to talk – witnesses and suspects alike. He was good. Gibbs had never regretted recruiting Tony; never regretted insisting that Tony be assigned to his team.

Tony was also one of the best men Gibbs knew. Tony had a heart of gold and a seemingly bottomless well of compassion. He had a sharp wit and wasn’t afraid to speak his mind. Oh, Tony kept up the appearance of a flighty exterior; but Gibbs knew he used it to keep people at a distance so they didn’t get too close to the real Tony. That wasn’t to say Tony completely made up the women he dated and the social scene he enjoyed; just that he’d learned the value of smoke and mirrors. Truthfully, genuine Tony was solid rock; reliable and dependable, someone Gibbs could trust to watch his six.

The problem was that Gibbs had always struggled with letting Tony know exactly how much Gibbs appreciated him. Even in the moments when Gibbs had expressed something, he’d made a joke of it right afterwards.

Well, he was going to have get his act together and step up.

Tony was his Guide and he deserved to know that Gibbs appreciated him; that Gibbs trusted him; that there was a comfort in knowing that the rest of their lives would be inextricably entwined.

Ducky was right.

It was time to let go of the past and move on with his future.

And he knew what the first step needed to be. He headed out of the basement.

-nCIs-

“I can’t believe we just did that.” Tony said brightly.

Gibbs’ lips twitched and when he thought Tony wasn’t looking the side of them curled up in a small smile. Tony hid his own satisfaction in amusing Gibbs. He’d been surprised the previous evening when Gibbs had come up from the basement…

Tony was watching a DVD in the den, stretched out on the sofa with the portable device on his lap. The only light had been one small lamp on the table by the sofa and the firelight jumping around in the hearth.

Gibbs’ entry didn’t immediately catch Tony’s attention. The previous three days Gibbs had walked through rooms with Tony in them without acknowledging his presence at all.

But Gibbs walked over and cleared his throat.

Tony looked up, surprised. “Boss?”

“Got a minute?” Gibbs gestured at the DVD player.

Tony promptly stopped the film and set the player aside. Gibbs took advantage of the moment to sit on the coffee table directly in front of Tony.

“I owe you an apology, Tony,” Gibbs began.

Alarm shot through Tony. “Rule six, Boss.”

“Needs to be broken,” Gibbs said. “I’ve been an ass.” He sighed and squirmed a little. “Not the first time I know.”

Tony was torn between agreeing and worrying that Gibbs was being unGibbs-like. He knew he could thin his shield and find out exactly what was going on with Gibbs but he respected Gibbs’ privacy too much to follow through on the temptation.

“I’ve been…” Gibbs said hesitantly.

“You don’t have to explain,” Tony hurried out. “This whole thing is weird. You’re allowed to freak out.” He’d maybe freaked out himself over the past couple of days as reality had sank in.

Gibbs looked at him seriously for a long moment before nodding slowly. “I’m not going to deny it,” he said grimacing, “but I’m done.”

He knew Gibbs meant it but Tony didn’t believe it was going to be that easy.

“Look, Boss,” he said, “we’re probably both going to freak out again over the next little while until this gets to be,” he struggled for the right word.

“Normal?” suggested Gibbs calmly. He nodded in slow agreement. “I guess so.”

“So we should give ourselves a break maybe if we do,” Tony pointed out.

“OK,” Gibbs agreed. He held Tony’s gaze firmly. “As long as you know that…” he paused once again struggling to find the right words, “even if I’m in the basement,” which was clearly going to be Gibbs-speak for freaking out, “I’m glad it’s you who’s on my six.” He said finally.

Tony heard the sincerity and moreover felt it somehow. It soothed over all the hurts of the previous three days; of knowing Gibbs was avoiding him; of feeling he shouldn’t be in Gibbs’ house; feeling unworthy.

He smiled shyly at Gibbs. “Thanks, Boss.”

Gibbs got to his feet. “Ducky said you were feeling better. Up for a trip out tomorrow?”

Tony nodded so enthusiastically that Gibbs gave him a pointed look. “I mean, not that your house isn’t great, Boss, but I’ve been going a little stir crazy here!”

“I get it, DiNozzo,” Gibbs drawled, getting to his feet. “You should head up to bed. We’ll be up early.”

Tony got up obediently. “Where are we going?”

“Surprise,” Gibbs said and grinned before he walked out.

Gibbs rolled his eyes. “You sure you’re up to the drive?”

Tony grinned back at him. “I’m good.”

Gibbs gestured for him to get in the truck and Tony hastened to obey, casting one last look back at the trailer with the boat. He settled into his seat with a content sigh. He knew how the boat got out of the basement! Gibbs had let him in on the secret. The others were going to freak!

“You’re not telling anyone,” Gibbs said as though he’d read Tony’s mind.

Tony mimed keeping his mouth shut but he kept grinning. He shivered a little. It was cold first thing in the morning and the truck’s cab was chilly.

Gibbs turned up the heat and kept driving.

They stopped for coffee at the diner down from Gibbs’ place before continuing onto the marina. Tony kept his shields up tight as Gibbs went to talk with the manager. It was early and there weren’t many people around but Tony wasn’t taking any chances.

It wasn’t too long before Gibbs returned. Everything seemed to happen fast after that; the boat was suddenly in the water and Gibbs was dragging Tony out of the truck and onto the boat to help him check out the interior.

It was beautiful inside the cabin. Hand crafted wooden cabinets, a tiny galley, a sitting platform that doubled as a bed, and a very basic shower and toilet the size of a small closet.

Gibbs left him to look his fill but Tony soon followed him up onto the deck. Gibbs dived into the backpack he’d pulled together and Tony wrapped his hands gratefully around the mug of tea that Gibbs poured from one thermos flask, unsurprised when Gibbs produced a second flask that poured a strong bitter coffee.

They stood side by side, leaning out over the railing, hands around the tin mugs, staring out past the marina to the sea.

Tony breathed in the salty air and revelled in the feel of the wind against his skin; the faint warmth of the sun’s weak rays. He could feel Gibbs beside him; a solid bulwark against the rest of the world.

“Mike’s coming to collect her,” Gibbs stated without fanfare. “I’m giving her to Amira.”

Mike’s grand-daughter. Tony remembered her and Leyla.

He turned to look at the other man. “You’re not keeping her?”

“The boat was Shannon’s idea,” Gibbs confessed quietly.

Tony’s breathing pretty much seized up. Gibbs never talked about Shannon and Kelly; never.

“We were talking about what next and there was Kelly telling me she wanted a boat for her birthday, so Shannon dared me.”

There was a fond smile creasing Gibbs’ face; his blue eyes were looking out to the horizon but Tony figured all Gibbs was seeing was the past; a glimpse of the moment where his beautiful wife teased him into building a boat for their equally beautiful and much loved daughter.

“Every time I came home after that, Kelly and I would work on the boat,” Gibbs continued. One of his hands stroked over the railing. “It was our thing.”

A part of Tony wanted to stop Gibbs talking; he could feel the other man’s pain and it hurt. But another part of him knew Gibbs had to talk; had to heal.

“When they…” Gibbs stuttered over the words, “after I got back on my feet…Mike helped me put this one in storage. I couldn’t…”

Tony inched closer, pressed his arm against Gibbs in mute support.

“‘Course I tried to build other boats but it never worked,” Gibbs said succinctly, skipping over the years and wives like he’d sent a stone skipping across a river. “I brought this one out of storage after Steph left me and I burned the one I’d been working on since I married her. At the time, I figured maybe I couldn’t build something new until I’d finished this one.”

That was pretty deep but Tony figured Gibbs had called it right.

“Didn’t even think about the fact that you’d just started working with me,” Gibbs commented almost idly.

Tony’s mouth was dry again and he sipped his tea. “You think…” he began unsure how to ask if their connection had something to do with it.

“You’ve been my Guide since Baltimore, Tony,” Gibbs stated clearly.

And from the literature Ducky had given Tony, the Guide in Tony would have been sending healing vibes to Gibbs, to his Sentinel, the entire time they’d worked together. Maybe he had helped Gibbs heal enough to finish the boat. It gave Tony a weird sense of pride and accomplishment.

“She’s finished now,” Gibbs’ voice sounded roughened with unexpressed tears.

“They’ll always be a part of you, Boss,” Tony murmured softly. “Finishing the boat doesn’t change that.”

“I know,” Gibbs said simply. And his head turned, his gaze catching Tony’s. “But it’s time to move on and that means for us to start building something new.”

And Tony figured they weren’t talking about boats anymore. At least he hoped they weren’t talking about boats.

Tony nodded, something relaxing in him that he hadn’t realised he’d been worrying over.

“You read the stuff Ducky left?” asked Gibbs.

The apparent change of subject might have left someone else floundering but Tony had always been able to keep up.

Moving on, building something new…it all led straight to the subject of their bonding.

“Yeah,” Tony said, fighting the blush that tried to crawl up his neck, “some of it was pretty…”

“Intimate?” suggested Gibbs with a flicker of a smile, as though Tony’s discomfort was amusing to him – it probably was.

“I was going with naked but intimate works,” Tony joked to cover his unease.

Gibbs shot him a look, a warning shot that usually preceded a head slap if Tony kept up the shtick.

Tony sighed. “Three main stages to bonding; contracting, physical, spiritual.” He listed from memory. “Physical bonding is when a Sentinel imprints their senses onto the Guide, bonding them on the physical plane.” The naked part. “Spiritual is the opposite; when the Guide facilitates the bonding at the spiritual level.” He paused. “This would be the contracting?” His voice rose at the end and his eyes darted back to Gibbs for verification.

Gibbs nodded.

“So we should discuss boundaries,” Tony said with more confidence than he felt, nerves rushing around his belly like a storm of butterflies.

“We do the bonding at my house,” Gibbs said with a finality that Tony understood it was something that the Sentinel part of Gibbs was insisting upon.

He gave a nod and took his courage in both hands. “The physical bonding is sense based; touch, taste, smell, sound and sight.” Hence the naked part and why the Sentinels and Guides who enjoyed sex together had it easier as far as bonding went. He shook his head; sex wasn’t happening. “The platonic bonding 101 section seemed pretty straight forward to me, Boss; any objections to any of it?”

It was pretty straight forward. Start with individual showers; talk and eat together using fingers and feeding each other, followed by massage for an hour with the Sentinel keeping the clothes and towels afterwards to immerse himself in scent in private.

Gibbs grimaced. “I’m going to need to mark you.”

Tony wasn’t too surprised. Gibbs was very territorial. “OK, how do you want to do that?”

“I’d like you to consider a tattoo for a permanent solution,” Gibbs said slowly. “But today…I’d have to bite or bruise you I think.”

And that was a whole lot more up close and personal than he’d intended to get with Gibbs.

“The tattoo is…fine,” Tony said eventually. It wasn’t something he would have chosen for himself, made undercover work a touch risky having an identifying mark, but he could live with it. “We agree the design though.”

Gibbs gave a brief nod.

“As for today…” Tony mused out loud. “How about we spar ahead of the showers and stuff?” It would give Gibbs plenty of opportunity to mark him in a natural way.

“Ducky is going to kill me,” Gibbs muttered but Tony knew it was agreement. He heaved a sigh. “Spiritual?”

“Meditation,” Tony grimaced. “I know it’s not either of our thing and I’m not exactly trained but…”

“It’s our best option,” Gibbs concurred. He held out his hand and Tony handed over his empty mug.

“Thank you,” Tony said softly. “For making me a part of coming here today.”

Gibbs’ blue eyes met his, warm and open. “From here on in, you’re always going to be a part of my life, Tony.”

The surety of it took Tony’s breath away; reassured him of his place in so many different ways that Tony couldn’t count them. He was smiling as Gibbs hustled him back into the truck for the journey home.

-nCIs-

The drive home was faster than the drive there. There had been people arriving as they had been leaving and Gibbs had instinctively reacted to the need to get Tony to a safer place. The door was locked as soon as they were across the threshold.

They both changed without discussion for the sparring session. Gibbs into sweatpants and an old Marine Corps t-shirt; Tony into shorts and a tank.

Gibbs led the way down to the basement. They spent a good ten minutes sweeping the floor to ensure there was nothing dangerous or sharp for them to fall onto. Gibbs dragged out a couple of dust sheets and placed them down to cover the hard concrete. Finally, he taped Tony’s hands and did the same to himself.

“Boxing, Boss?” Humour ran through Tony’s words and Gibbs allowed himself to respond to the light teasing.

“Easiest way to bruise you,” Gibbs frowned as he took in the fading bruises that already adorned Tony’s skin. Rivkin had done a number on his Guide. There was an urge to storm over to Israel, drag Rivkin’s corpse from its burial plot and kill him all over again.

Tony touched his arm gently. “Boss?”

Gibbs shook himself. “Maybe we should work on your hand to hand.” He waved at Tony’s torso.

Tony looked down and made a face. “Yeah, he did get the better of me.”

“You were lucky,” Gibbs said, realising almost for the first time just how lucky Tony had been.

“I’m scrappy,” Tony answered promptly with an easy grin.

Gibbs huffed. But he knew downplaying his close escape was Tony’s way of dealing with it. He threw a pair of boxing gloves at him. “Body shots only, DiNozzo.”

A few minutes later, they were trading blows.

Tony kept up the teasing all the way through the session. Gibbs knew it wasn’t just because Tony liked talking. He was using the gentle taunts to try and distract Gibbs, get him to lose focus, just like he did every time they sparred. It had an added benefit now of letting Gibbs immerse himself in Tony’s voice; amused and light-hearted, teasing and happy. He always wanted Tony to sound like that.

They parried for a while and when Gibbs got past Tony’s guard and landed a blow to his ribs that caused him to lose his breath, Gibbs called a halt.

He gestured for Tony to pull up his tank so he could check he hadn’t accidentally broken or bruised the rib bone – he really didn’t want another lecture from Ducky.

The reddening mark was small just above the bottom edge of the rib cage. The ribs looked intact and moving naturally.

Gibbs felt the primal satisfaction of knowing it was his mark on his Guide suffuse him for a long moment. He raised his eyes to find Tony rolling his. Gibbs raised an eyebrow in mute query.

“I have a shield up, Boss, and I can still feel your smugness,” Tony said dryly.

“Thinking we should put the tattoo there,” Gibbs retorted.

“Seriously?” Tony’s worried face gave way to a rueful smile as Gibbs smirked at him.

“Funny, Boss,” Tony wagged a finger at him.

Gibbs untaped his own hands, checked his sore knuckles and was pleased they’d stayed intact. Tony was wrestling with his tape so he waved him over and started unwinding it. Tony’s knuckles bore faint bruises but none had split open.

“Want to tattoo them?” Tony joked.

Gibbs shot him a look and let go of his hand. “Go get your shower upstairs. I’ll use the bathroom down here.”

“On it, Boss,” Tony turned and lightly ran back up the stairs.

A sense of satisfaction stole over Gibbs as he glanced around his empty basement. The boat was gone but Tony was there.

It seemed like a good trade to Gibbs.

-nCIs-

Tony was only half-surprised when he exited the bedroom and Gibbs yelled to head back down to the basement.

He’d dressed loosely in old sweats; easy enough to discard but he wasn’t comfortable enough to feel like walking around Gibbs’ house naked. He certainly wasn’t feeling confident enough to stride into the next phase of their bonding butt naked.

Tony’s shield was up and he was determined not to sneak a peek at Gibbs’ emotions at any time. He knew it wouldn’t stand up to skin to skin contact. He wondered what he’d feel. Three days in the basement seemed to have given Gibbs some peace over events. Maybe Tony wouldn’t feel the unhappiness he’d felt that first night Gibbs had told him about the bond.

He almost fell down the stairs when he caught sight of the basement floor.

The dust sheets they’d put down had been removed, the floor newly swept again and in the centre was a thin camping mattress covered with a few pillows and cushions, a real linen sheet and a warm blue blanket. There was a neatly folded stack of towels to the side along with a bottle of massage oil. But it was the circle of non-scented candles around the area that drew Tony’s breath; a spiritual bonding circle. He’d heard of them, read about them in the literature.

He continued down slowly until he stood next to Gibbs in the circle.

“This OK?” asked Gibbs quietly.

“It’s more than I thought you’d want,” He said truthfully.

“However we started this bond, Tony,” Gibbs said, “I’m in this for real.”

Tony nodded, overwhelmed.

“Ready to begin?” asked Gibbs softly.

Tony nodded again. “I’m going to apologise in advance for any natural reaction to being touched, Boss.”

“Jethro,” Gibbs corrected gently. “We’re about to get naked with each other, Tony. You can use my name.”

Tony nodded, touched by the consideration.

Gibbs reached down and picked up a water bottle. He opened it and took a sip before passing to Tony. Tony drank and passed it back, understanding it was sharing taste once removed. They swapped the bottle back and forth until it was gone.

Tony stripped out of his sweats efficiently, handing them off to Gibbs. He ignored Gibbs burying his nose in the clothes before Gibbs folded them almost reverently and set them down at the bottom of the mat. Tony also tried to ignore that he was naked as a jaybird, and rearranged himself face down, one pillow cushioning his face, another propped under his bad shoulder to ease the pressure.

Gibbs stripped beside him. He lowered himself to sit straddling Tony and Tony was vibrantly aware that Gibbs’ inner thighs were rubbing against Tony’s outer thighs. A moment later, oil splashed lightly onto Tony’s back and an instant later, Gibbs’ hands began to stroke downwards.

Gibbs’ emotions ricocheted off Tony’s shield.

He’d been right about the skin on skin; Tony couldn’t keep the feelings out. He was disappointed when he realised Gibbs was very uncomfortable but then a flicker of Gibbs’ determination to make the massage good sneaked through. Tony recognised the feeling as one he’d had about playing piano at one of his mother’s tea parties dressed up in a sailor suit; the discomfort of doing something he really didn’t want to do but tempered by a need to get through it because otherwise he’d let down someone he loved.

And that brought Tony up sharply.

Suddenly he could sense Gibbs’ affection for him lurking under the surface awkwardness. Gibbs cared a lot about Tony and there was a desire to look after him, to make sure Tony was safe and protected. Gibbs was upset by the bruises that adorned Tony’s skin…so careful with each one; so gentle when he smoothed a hand over the still sore shoulder Rivkin had damaged.

Tony relaxed into Gibbs’ touch, feeling cherished for the first time in his life.

Gibbs finished his sweep of Tony’s back and started on Tony’s feet with less discomfort and more confidence. Tony flinched away, giving a rueful chuckle as he forced himself to stay still.

“Ticklish?” Gibbs was amused and his amusement seeped through Tony’s skin and made Tony smile.

“Yeah,” Tony admitted and was surprised by Gibbs running a finger over the sole of Tony’s foot. “Boss!” He squawked.

“Jethro,” Gibbs reminded him, but he wasn’t upset by Tony calling him Boss – if anything the term helped Gibbs settle. “Any other ticklish places?”

“I think I’ll let you find out,” Tony murmured, a laugh carried in the tone of his voice.

“Talk to me,” Gibbs ordered lightly. “I want to hear you.”

Tony gave a rueful chuckle as Gibbs’ sincerity bled through the shield; he really did want to hear Tony talk; wanted to ground himself to the cadence of Tony’s voice. “Bet you thought you’d never say that, huh, Boss, uh, Jethro?”

Gibbs gave his own dry chuckle. “Guess not, and I will deny it if you repeat it but I like hearing you talk. I rely on your talk.”

“Yeah?” Tony felt unaccountably touched. He sensed Gibbs hearing Tony reassured him; made Gibbs feel safe because he knew where Tony was. “Well, what do you want me to talk about?”

Gibbs started in on his right calf, loosening and warming the tight muscle. “I don’t know…how about your favourite movie?”

“Aw, come on!” joked Tony easily. “You’re asking me to choose one movie? I kinda struggle to choose a favourite in a single genre!”

“Well, tell me about all your favourites,” Gibbs suggested.

Tony bit his lip. “I’ll bore you to death.” He warned, unsure that it was the best idea.

“I’m interested, Tony,” Gibbs reassured him, his hands not speeding up or slowing down. “Talk to me.”

And Tony could feel his genuine want to get to know Tony beyond what he knew already. That he’d chosen movies was something Tony appreciated.

“OK,” said Tony, settling in, “well, you kind of know my Christmas movie.”

Everyone knew Tony’s Christmas movie; A Wonderful Life.

“Why that movie?” Gibbs asked.

“It’s…life affirming, I guess. Reminds me that no matter how bad it seems, a single individual can still make a difference to the people around him whether he knows it or not.” And sometimes Tony had needed that in his life. Tony immediately moved to deflect attention though because it wasn’t something he liked to advertise with Gibbs regardless of the new spin to their relationship. “My Mom preferred A Christmas Carol, nineteen-fifty-one version with Alistair Sim. Great movie but I prefer the nineteen-thirty-eight version myself. Ann Rutherford as one of the Ghosts? It has a certain magic, you know?”

“And the same message as your favourite Christmas movie.” Gibbs noted.

“Yeah…hadn’t really thought about that,” Tony said with surprise. “OK,” he said shaking off the topic, “next genre?”

“Military?” Gibbs said.

That discussion led to subsets of genre – British versus American; historical versus futuristic versus gory violence. Tony had minored in film studies and was a font of knowledge. Before he knew it Gibbs had clinically massaged his buttocks and was nudging him onto his front, without Tony pausing for breath.

Tony was extolling the virtues of Saving Private Ryan when Gibbs finally finished stroking down Tony’s final limb – his injured arm – and Tony realised they were done. He was about to move when Gibbs’ hand gently cupped his genitals. Tony stilled, sucking in a breath, giving thanks that he was too freaked to be aroused.

Gibbs’ own freaking out transmitted itself through their skin but so did the Sentinel’s need to touch every part of Tony and Tony forced himself to relax.

“Do you need me to cough, Boss?” Tony joked and if his voice was a touch higher than normal neither of them was going to comment.

Gibbs gave an embarrassed laugh and carefully let go. Tony kept still despite the instinct to snatch up a towel and cover himself.

“I don’t know why I…” Gibbs began awkwardly.

“Sentinel instincts,” Tony replied. “It’s OK, Boss, but I’m thinking we’d both be more comfortable putting our pants back on before we move to the spiritual side of things.”

Gibbs blew out a frustrated breath but reached over and tossed Tony his sweatpants and then reached for his own.

When they were both covered, Gibbs picked up a couple of tapers and a match. He lit one, lighting the other from that. He handed the second taper to Tony and the two of them began lighting the candles. Gibbs took the taper back, blew out the flames and set them aside. A moment later they were both sitting cross-legged facing each other in the centre of the mattress, candle-light flickering around them.

Gibbs offered his hands to Tony and Tony clasped them.

“Match my breaths,” Tony instructed a touch nervously.

But Gibbs nodded and followed his lead. They kept eye contact as they breathed in and out. In and out.

Their spirit animals appeared beside them, settling down to lie next to them.

Once again, he felt Gibbs’ determination; his affection and fondness for Tony; the note of appreciation that it was Tony. But this was a spiritual connection and deeper feelings seeped through…

Endless admiration for Tony as a man and as an agent. Affection in abundance for someone who made Gibbs laugh and smile; who made him remember life was for living. A real gladness that it was Tony who he’d bonded to although it was accompanied by a quieter sadness and sense of grief at losing Shannon…and there was a lurking fear of losing Tony too.

Tony’s hands tightened on Gibbs’. Intuitively Tony knew he needed to share what he was feeling and he lowered his shield, projecting to Gibbs for the first time…

Respect for Gibbs as a man, as an agent, as a Marine who had served. His loyalty and love for a man who’d taken Tony in and given him a professional home; a personal sense of belonging and family. The sincere truth that he wanted Gibbs as his Sentinel. But beyond that the fear that Gibbs might one day reject and abandon him as so many people had in Tony’s life…

“I’ve got you.”

It was a solemn promise, not one spoken aloud, but Tony felt it down to his bones. He was safe. He was Gibbs’. And Gibbs would protect him now until the day they died.

“I’ve got your six too, Boss.”

Tony’s own silent promise to ensure Gibbs was grounded and secure resonated through the haze of feelings that they shared.

Trust bubbled up and simmered along their connection; the absolute trust they’d had from the start for each other. It had been bumped and bruised but they mended it then and there, soothing over the hurts and repairing the scratches until they were gone and nothing remained but their trust to always be there for each other.

Their spirit cats got up, roared, and leaped towards each other. They merged in a blinding flash. And their bond snapped into place.

Tony’s blood was buzzing. His giddiness stormed down their bond and made Gibbs smirk at him.

Gibbs squeezed Tony’s hand and gazed at him with warm blue eyes, his contentment humming along their bond. “Guide.”

Tony grinned happily back. “Sentinel.”

fin.

Continue onto The Dark Horse Part I.